My Intoxication
by Mandala Morgaine
Summary: AU/AH: "I am cold. I am calculating. This is how I survive. No attachments." Jasper finds friendship in newcomer Bella Swan, stirring up a relationship that strains loyalties and blurs the lines between love and addiction. Jasper POV.
1. Pt 1 My Intoxication

**_This story is AH from Jasper's POV, tends to be graphic and does not follow your traditional "love story" pattern. It is primarily a drama, but you'll see some situational humor down the line. I hope you enjoy it!_**

**_~Mandala M._**

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Intox 1

I am cold. I am calculating. This is how I survive. No attachments, only the strategy. And the poison.

It was mid-afternoon and the skies were an ominous shade of gray. I climbed the concrete stairs to the abandoned passageway between Building Three and the Cafeteria, my footsteps scuffing softly against the built-up debris. No one used this way anymore; the mute colors evinced dilapidation and a dreary dinginess that people instinctively avoided.

I slung my backpack to the ground halfway down the walkway and sat down beside it. The faded red nearly blended in to the concrete, just another failing color in a concrete hell that no one would willingly enter. Under the distant threat of rain, I undid the ties holding it shut and took out my kit.

Poison. That is what people called it, but I didn't heed their unproved opinions. I combined the ingredients together as carefully as a neurosurgeon would practice his craft, holding the lighter at the ideal position so as not to burn anything, stirring the mixture until it was perfect. _Fuck opinions_. They did not know what it felt like to live in poetry; to them there was no bliss, only self-righteous anger. To them, this was deadly poison.

I rolled up my shirtsleeve, exposing the green veins prominently through my translucent skin. I wrapped the tourniquet dutifully before taking a deep breath. My jaw was clenched tight enough to cramp the muscles. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my heartbeat, trying to quell the rising anticipation in my gut. I hated needles.

I tottered over the edge of trypanophobia and reached my resolution. I put the needle to the vein and closed my eyes. There was a pause – my hands were shaking – and then I pressed the syringe right through my skin.

Poetry. Ecstasy. Heaven. I can call it any of these terms and it will still not be equal to the feeling. My muscles tensed. I felt someone's legs scrambling and then was propped back against the wall looking at my own legs doing the movement. My eyes closed, my head bowed, and my mouth hung open; I tried to take a deeper breath through the shallow hisses of air coming through my lips while my mouth moved convulsively in sync with my breathing. Then it really hit me, the corruption of my skeletal muscle system, and I sprawled on the grimy concrete.

Fuck opinions, I thought while the sky spun and faded to black. _ This is better than an orgasm_.

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**E/N: This is your first glimpse of Jasper, but it won't be the last! This story is told entirely from his perspective. If you would like to read other POVs, please see the companion piece "This Infatuation."**

_**Thanks!**_


	2. The Road Home

**_I own many fantastic things in the world: a laptop, a Moleskin notebook and three F-402 Zebra pens. However much these items help me write, they have never penned the words of Stephanie Meyer. I don't own. I just borrow and play with her creations._**

**_~Mandala M._**

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Intox 2

A bell was ringing in the distance, shrill and painful in my otherwise silent world. It was a rallying cry. Somewhere beyond the haze hovering in my mind I knew the meaning of such a bell. Gradually it dawned upon me that school had ended – that I had been lying on an abandoned walkway for the better part of four hours – and I opened my eyes.

I saw a pale arm stretched out haphazardly. There was dried blood on the inside of the elbow, a remnant of some greater purpose; it had already begun to scab. I sat up with a moan and pulled the rubber tubing off my arm with a difficult motion. The mess would take forever to clean properly. I bemoaned the fact , running my fingers anxiously through my blond hair before I capped the needle and threw the rest of my gear into my bag. I could clean the blood out of the syringe later; I had to get out of here.

By the time I stumbled down to the parking lot I had missed my ride. The silver Volvo was nowhere to be seen. I stood staring aimlessly for a few minutes, trying to digest the implications of this, before remembering the bus system. The stupid yellow beasts that came straight from the 60s and wielded their power tyrannically over average drivers – I would have to take the bus home.

It was amazing that I even found the correct bus. Blessedly, the doors were still open. I stepped in and spoke with the driver, a fat man with a bald scalp and breath that reeked of chewing tobacco. After words, some heated and some not, he removed me from the bus with a physical strength that seemed impossible given his generous build. I no longer had an assigned seat; the bus had stopped dropping me off when I was a sophomore.

My plight was obvious. I looked around the empty parking lot with a mixture of panic and frustration. _Good for nothing brother_. Then, with a last desperate scan of the lot, I began my trek home under the rumbling heavens.

This had happened before, of course, but usually it was when I was in detention or supposed to be in an appointment in town (usually an appointment I forgot or neglected). Today there was no reason other than a show of brotherly cruelty; when the rain started, I cursed his name. _Fuckin' Edward!_ There was nothing I could do, though. I was on the road without a raincoat and not even running – if I had been able to – would have saved me.

It was dejecting but not shaming to be subjected to one of Edward's displays of superiority. The rain beat me down, creating a resonating pulse across my skin. I had myself half convinced that the walk would keep me awake on my feet, but that was before I heard the car coming down the road.

My heart soared. I extended my arm and stuck out my thumb as I walked. Past experience taught me to be wary of the car when it zipped around me. Instead, I heard it slow to a crawl and pull alongside me. Blue and red lights danced silently through the air. I cursed vehemently.

A window rolled down off to my left and the familiar voice was saying to me, "Jasper Hale, get in the car."

I obeyed – you cannot deny a police officer – and slid into the backseat of his patrol car. A girl my age looked back at me briefly, inquisitively, and then went back to studying the duffel bag in her hands. I had never seen her before and her bag was new. The car began moving again and I slumped back in my seat, a weary traveler.

"It's a great day to be out, Jasper, but don't you know that hitchhiking is illegal?" His eyes flickered to me once. The girl inclined her head with near imperceptibility.

"I missed my ride," I said mournfully.

"You staying out of trouble?" he asked and this time his gaze stuck.

I was masterful. "Yes, Chief Swan." I ran a weak hand through my mop of hair and ignored the dubious look and the doubtful "OK" he intoned. I knew that if he searched me I would be fucked because I was decidedly _not_ staying out of trouble.

The rest of the ride, however, passed in silence. As we turned down the road to my house, I caught the girl's eyes watching me in the review mirror. She looked away hastily and I almost felt the embarrassment coming off her in pulsing bursts. I chuckled softly as the car turned into my driveway and she gasped; many people would find it hard to imagine that I lived in a mansion of sorts.

Chief Swan opened the door and held it for me as I began to slip out of the car. Feeling eyes on my back, though, I turned back briefly to get a better look. I was surprised: she had brown eyes like liquid chocolate and skin that was paler than anyone I had ever known. Her nose was thin, delicate. She had an ethereal beauty about her that was vaguely familiar.

My head smacked against the door frame and it knocked me right back into a daze. Chief Swan grabbed me by the elbow so I didn't fall. I was glad about that; I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of _her_. I pulled my bag after me and slung it over my shoulder as I stepped away from the car.

"Thank you for the ride home, Chief Swan," I said quietly and chanced a glance at his face. "I appreciate it."

He wore a slight frown but it was not in anger. He had always been understanding – sympathetic, even - but I was disappointing his expectations. He murmured a quiet "you're welcome" and released me from his gaze. I walked up the stairs, listening to the sound of his car pulling away and waiting for the door to open for me; no doubt my family had seen that and were waiting in the shadows.

They were gathered near the door as I entered. I had expected this. Now I ignored it. I ignored the smug look from Edward, the stern glance from Carlisle, the concern in Esme's eyes, and the fact that Alice was the only one missing, clearly avoiding an awkward situation of being the only outsider watching a family feud. Carlisle opened his mouth, but I shut the door behind me and spoke before he could.

"Fuck you, Edward." I'd wanted to say that for an hour. It made me happier to have it off my chest even if it offended Esme.

"Jasper-" Carlisle began with a disapproving tone. I stopped him.

"No, no Carlisle." I pointed to Edward. "He left me _in the rain_, and I had to take a ride home from the police. _Fuck _him."

"I would have given you a ride if you'd showed up," said Edward quietly. I was sure he'd planned that response.

"I was talking to the principal," I snapped, shrugging my pack higher onto my back and struggled to keep my eyes open.

Carlisle spoke. "I hope you were telling him why you were absent all afternoon."

So they knew. I rubbed my eye and blinked at them stupidly, dumbfounded that the effort of my lies were useless against this preexisting knowledge. Now I looked both foolish and underhanded; they would not believe anything else I said and neither would I. My eyes closed and barely opened again. I shook my head in a convincing guise of anger and walked up the stairs to my room, knowing that I would not be followed here. They had too much respect for personal privacy to intrude.

The door was closed behind me softly, exchanging the clean scents of the house for the comfort of smoke and incense-perfumed blankets. I flopped onto my bed and lit an unnecessary cigarette that dangled loosely between my fingers. There was no pain here – just muted sounds and shades of gray. I let my drowsiness carry me off into dreams of a strange girl with dark eyes and porcelain skin.

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**_Thank you to everyone who came out to read my first chapter! If you're still here, I'd love to know why... drop a review! I almost always reply!_**


	3. Chasing Dragons

Intox 3

Somewhere in the midst of the heavy dreams that tugged at my consciousness, I was aware of Alice. Her presence was subtle, as usual, but it was enough to rouse me. I opened my eyes. Her cool arms were wrapped over my chest; I felt her cheek resting against my shoulder blade, the soft press of her body against mine.

"Alice." I wasn't guessing; it could only be her.

"I'm sorry I woke you."

_Alice_. She was usually close by when I was at home. She seemed to take comfort in my presence. I assumed there was something to it, the fact that she disliked both the dark and isolation so intensely, but had never bothered to inquire. It was not my place.

Her presence tonight was not unprecedented. Sometimes she slept in my bed. I would wake with her arms around me, not so much in desire or love as in need of a safe haven from her nightmares. I had never pushed her away – never been unnecessarily cruel and told her that I disliked her presence – because in truth I liked it immensely.

_Did she know what she did to me?_

Though it went without saying that we had some sort of bond, I doubted that she knew how deep it ran. It was quiet, but the least assuming rivers ran the deepest. Since the moment we had first met, we had been best friends in a world set against us. At the time, my sister Rosalie was already living with the Cullens and close with Emmett. Edward was – well, he was the naturally quietly, solitary man that he was. Alice and I had joined the family at the same time because it was the only way either of us would leave the institution; we were both equally out of our elements and too fucked in the head to make it alone.

I stared out at my room, unable to sleep now. Alice pulled me tighter against her with an unintelligible murmur; I wanted to smile, knowing by instinct that she was almost asleep, but I was an insomniac without artificial aid. And I _really_ wanted to be sleeping right now. I didn't want to sit and ponder the course of my life.

I rolled out of Alice's grip and slid the slight drop to my floor in search of my kit. My room was illuminated by a makeshift nightlight I had created one day while stoned on a more innocent mixture of drugs than those I was currently in search of. _Simpler days_. It was an eerie lamp, made of an old television manually muted and set to perpetual static, its control a single dial, its luminosity dulled by the layers of red cellophane I had wrapped around it. The red light served little practical purpose – sometimes it even made finding small objects much trickier.

I patted down the sitting area around the television with a growing sense of panic. You might even call it desperation. _Where had I put it?_ I began to rearrange the pillows and cushions decorating the floor in my dedication to the search, checking under the bohemian throw rugs that I'd found somewhere in Seattle last year and the malformed bean bags that were seemingly made of pure comfort when I was in a better mood. Reason had disappeared; madness had taken its place and I did not know what to do.

"Jasper," she said in a tired voice and I briefly thought that I felt an emotion – disappointment – within her before my own relief overwhelmed the thought, "it's in your red pack."

_My pack_. My hands shook as I dug through the pack and reached the kit; I took it out and spread all the gear out on the floor in front of me. I had to look several times before I found the bag that was supposed to contain my stash. It was close to empty – dreadfully close, only enough to do one more job and be finished. The syringe was clotted, useless. Realistically, I should wait to go to Port Angeles, wait until I could go to the clinic and get free needles, wait the time out until I couldn't wait any longer.

But I was not being realistic; I was going to chase the dragon right here, right now, with my foster parents asleep down the hall.

I had a foldable wire frame set up now, and I uncrinkled an old sheet of tin foil to spread over it. Alice slumped back onto the bed and watched as I placed the candle under the rig, placed the black tar above the wick, and lit the flame. At the moment I was without a tube to channel the smoke; I cupped my hands around my mouth and bent over the gear instead.

It was a waste but, as I inhaled, I felt the effects coming on faster than it would have had I had access to a needle. The breath in my lungs escaped me in a moan; I fell backward in a slow motion, and the only thing that caught me was an overstuffed beanbag chair. I no longer felt guilty – I was soaring, an intrepid adventurer into life's unknowns. _Don't fuck with me,_ my mind was shouting gleefully. I felt the smile on my face, reached up, and touched the corners of my lips softly.

I don't know how much time passed. Perhaps none. Perhaps hours. Her hands were on my shoulders, shaking me gently, trying to wake me without causing inconvenience. I groaned; my eyes flickered open and I found myself staring straight into Alice's wet eyes.

"What happened?" My mind was churning with reasons for her to cry. I could think of none that wouldn't have brought someone else running with a warning.

Her delicate face looked like it would crack. "I thought you were dead. I thought you were _dead_."

The tears that she had been holding back came flooding out in relief and hysteria. She threw her arms around me and cried against my shoulder. I recognized this emotional madness, the hysterics she was put in by some of the dreams she had. Ever since I had known her, Alice had been convinced that her dreams were intuitive; she was often correct, but no one liked to believe her – myself included.

"You had a dream, Alice." I was too drowsy to comfort her, but I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her cheek. I willed her to be calm and, gradually, I felt her body relax against me.

"It was so real, Jazz," she said. "You were at school, it was raining, there was a girl there screaming, and I couldn't run fast enough." She sounded in danger of breaking down again.

"C'mon, Alice," I murmured, trying to ignore what she had said as I stood the two of us up. She was malleable against me and let me put her to bed, though she insisted that she could not sleep. I laid down next to her and held her close. She trembled against me.

"Jazz?"

"Yeah?" I opened my eyes halfway and waited for her words. I could not have foreseen what she said next.

"I think you should stay away from that girl," she said in a sleepy voice, as if telling me an afterthought before she fell asleep. "She is going to break your heart."

Alice slipped off into an easy sleep, but I was left awake for longer than I would have liked. Troubled, I thought on what her words could have meant and whether she had misspoken. I knew she hadn't, and I knew that she had dreamt this up. Sleep wouldn't come to me now; it was as if I had insulted the Sand Man.

I was nervous now, and angry. For the first time in my life I was scared of what Alice had dreamt. Because, despite my cavalier attitude, I believed in everything she said. An ax hung over my head. I suddenly knew and dreaded the future.

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**E/N: Maybe this will be the online version of a Friday-night TV episode. That seems to be when I publish; let's see if I can get it going. Leave some reviews and keep me in mind for your next Friday.**


	4. Castles Burning

Intox 4

I woke Alice six minutes before my alarm went off. She stretched and rolled over to face the empty bed, the spot where I had spent hours failing to fall asleep. I was no longer there. Currently, I was pacing across the weathered rug, kicking at the pillows that covered my floor.

She got up and let me pace in peace. My decision was difficult, deciding whether or not I would go to school or make a trip to Port Angeles. I had already pulled a blue Oxford shirt from my closet and buttoned it with trembling fingers; today my hands would not stop shaking. Officially dressed for the day, I was still undecided. Nothing was more important than going to the city, but there was a balance between arousing suspicions and keeping up appearances that had to be maintained.

Alice knocked on my door and entered, fresh from a morning shower. My hair was dirty and hanging in my face; I had not bothered to clean up. She looked me over a minute with hazy eyes before her expression cleared and she beckoned me to follow.

"Esme won't say anything but agrees with Carlisle. He is making you go," she said as we descended the stairs together. "I like that shirt – powder blue is good to you."

I smiled softly, enough for her to know I was paying attention, and she was happy. Alice had a tic – she hated discomfort on my part and continually tried to alleviate it. At times it was enough to erode the moral code she and the rest of the family held so strongly; I almost felt bad for her then. I hated to use her love and innocence because, rightfully, she should leave me alone like so many from my past had. It was, however, in her hands. I could not let go: I wasn't strong enough to walk on my own.

We went into the kitchen together and picked up the plates Esme had set out for us. The rest of the family was already seated and eating at the dining room table. Edward looked up, shot me a glance, and continued eating. I sat down across from him and Esme and began picking at my vegetarian breakfast burrito; it was tasteless, bland, mundane. This was one of the things I loathed about my life in Forks: all they ate was rabbit food.

Carlisle glanced over to me. "The principal will be waiting to talk to you before school today."

I agreed without looking up. "Okay."

"That means you have to be in the office twenty minutes early."

I bit my lip. "_Okay_."

The fork dropped from my hand and clattered against the ceramic plate. My hands were clenching and unclenching involuntarily. Unable to control the shaking, I folded them beneath the table. When I glanced up, all three family members were staring. I fought the urge to leave until Alice was ready.

"I'm sorry, Esme," I murmured, standing with Alice.

"Jasper, it's time to go if you want to be on time." She grinned at me as I glanced over. "We'll take the other car – Edward, don't worry about hurrying. I've got it."

I nodded quickly and grabbed my plate off the table. Esme looked me over without being too obvious, and I knew she had noticed my lack of appetite. I nearly grinned to assuage the concern in her face, but my heart wasn't in it. I turned abruptly and walked away from them.

Alice drove Rosalie's red beauty that day, a rare thing for her to do considering how much it stood out against the sea of other cars. We both knew that Rose would not mind it being used by Alice, but driving the vehicle still did make Alice uncomfortable. I tried to ease her mind with jokes too jittery and anxious to be of much use. She snorted back a laugh as we roared into the Forks High School parking lot and came to a superb stop in front of a stream of staring students.

I glanced to the clock and saw that I still had time before I went into the office. My nerves felt shot; deep breathing was doing nothing. What was needed in this situation more than anything could not be found, but I had one of the next best things. Cigarettes. They were disgusting yet powerful enough to cure any affliction of the temperament. Enough to make your hands stop shaking, your anxiety from bursting through, and generally to help you through the day at the Forks High.

We stepped out of the car at the same time, mirror images yet polar opposites. She was short, dark-haired, and in a perpetual state of breeziness. I towered over her petite form, a honey-haired ghost with anemic skin. People usually let me keep to my somber self; I wasn't an inviting person. Alice could have been friends with every kid at school if she just kept her distance from me, but she was too… well… _Alice_ to do the smart thing.

I sat on the wet concrete and smoked a cigarette while Alice leaned against the retaining wall behind us and waited. Halfway through, she sighed and walked back to the car for an umbrella. I stayed seated, waiting for the nicotine to depress my nervous system, and lit another one. I wasn't aware that Alice was standing directly behind me until I heard the umbrella open; ten seconds later it started to rain. I shook my head and stood up.

"Mr. Hale, this is a 'No Smoking' facility," the vice principal said, walking past. His tone was half-hearted. As he looked back to see if I was intimidated by his authority, I pulled a long drag from the cigarette and blew it in his direction.

"I'll be into the office in a minute," I called after him. I hoped he would report me so I could have a laugh. Christ, I needed a laugh today.

An ancient orange truck that I had never seen before pulled into the parking lot and stopped with a loud backfire. A general titter of laughter went up around the lot, though it subsided quickly when the truck's door opened. My head snapped up immediately and I stared with rapt attention. For a split second I forget that I was facing the rest of the day sober, that the principal's office was waiting, that I wasn't interested.

Alice tapped my shoulder and then her watch. I cursed under my breath and pinched the smoking cigarette butt out in my fist before grabbing my few notebooks from the car and heading over to the office. Alice did not follow; she would wait for Edward and head into school with him since they had their first three classes together. From here on it was just me, alone, to face the day. _Shit._

I got to the office and spoke with the secretary. Apparently, even though I was on time for once in my two year span here, I had to wait while he cleared up a matter with someone else. I stood at the counter and waited, hoping that the steady tapping of my fingers would force her into premature action. It didn't; she was absorbed by the new arrival behind me.

"You must be Isabella," she crooned.

I turned as the girl approached the desk and nodded. "I'm looking for my schedules." She avoided looking my direction and I looked back to the open door into the Principal's room.

He was clearly eating breakfast at his desk. I growled beneath my breath and tapped my fingers with renewed intensity. The secretary pulled at her purple shirt and handed several papers over to the new girl. I snuck a peek at her reaction to the jumbled mess out of the corner of my eye; she looked terrified.

"Hey, is he in a meeting with someone important or just his bagel," I said, leaning over the counter. "That ham and cheese looks like it can wait longer than me."

The two women looked at me with wide eyes, one in anger and the other in embarrassment. I pressed the palm of my hand against my forehead and took a deep breath. This was neither the time nor place to be losing my temper, even if the bright colors in this room were giving me a headache. I could feel ghost pains creeping into my system, crackling up my nerves.

"Never mind." I threw my hands up in the air and stepped back. "It's not like I wanted to talk to him anyway. Tell him to reschedule when it's more convenient time."

I picked up my books and turned to leave, but something held me back. It was her, the outsider, the girl with the lost expression and beautiful face. Kicking myself, I turned to the new girl and said, "Do you need directions to your first class or something?"

She blushed furiously, uncontrollably, but nodded. I held back a smirk, remembering that I, too, had been new here at one time. We were foreigners. I extended my hand with what I hoped was a polite smile.

"I'm Jasper Hale. It's nice to meet you."

"I know, I figured that out yesterday," she said with a nervous grin, yet she accepted my handshake as if grateful to have made any acquaintance so quickly. "I'm Bella Swan."

"You're Chief Swan's daughter?" _Really? _I'd known he was divorced, but… _damn._

"Yeah, I thought everyone would know that."

_Shit._ "I guess I'm not everyone then."

I shrugged noncommittally and opened the door to let her step out before me. She winced at the rain and pulled her hood up over her hair. I followed a few steps behind her until she stopped, her face concentrating on reading the small map she had been given. I looked over her shoulder and saw her compare her first class schedule with the map. Oh, it would be easy directions for this one.

"Latin_?_" I couldn't believe it. Her backpack had buttons for rock bands. Her fingernails were sapphire blue. She didn't look like one for archaic languages.

"They put it on my schedule as filler. Don't make fun of me," she said in protest. Her face made an expression that I could not place, but I shrugged again and motioned for her to follow me. People were staring at us, an obvious discomfort for her. I got the sense that this was more than just first-day jitters; she actually did not like attention. It was bad luck that she was with me, then.

"Nolite te bastardes carborundorum," I said, handing the papers back to her and hoping she was too preoccupied to notice the tremors running through my muscles. For a moment she stared as if I had spoken Swahili, but when the classroom door opened she looked up and recognized that she was in front of a room decorated with tacky Romanesque columns. The teacher was greeting her and she, in her flustered state, forgot me.

I was halfway down the corridor before she put her foot in the door.

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**E/N: Keeping Up Appearances was a hilarious British comedy that I watched on PBS as a kid. There was a woman whose name was pronounced "Bucket" but she insisted that it was "Bouquet." Oh God, her poor husband and neighbors. I absolutely loved that show.**

**Plus: anyone who can translate what Jasper said without leaving this page is awesome. If you don't want to look it up, I'm going to put it on my profile just so you can check there.**


	5. Gotta Get Away

Intox 5

I was late for my first period class. Given the general hysteria surrounding the arrival of a new student, however, it seemed pointless for Mr. Morgan to reprimand me. I sat quietly in my seat – strategically placed so he would notice me causing trouble – and considered the grades I might get if I actually took notes during lecture. The whispers were incessant, enough to grate on the brain like a fork scraped against fine china. I sensed a headache of epic proportions encroaching upon my good mood; irritability would strike next.

For once, I had the answer to one of the teacher's questions. He looked at me, surprise evident as I commented dryly on the number of _enlightened thinkers_ in the room. I smiled to myself and looked down at the empty sheet of notebook paper beneath my pen. No one else had heard the mockery in my voice – understood like Mr. Morgan and I did that they were incapable of escaping herd mentality – because the whispers about Isabella Swan were still sneaking about the room. _Point proved._

The general line of conversation throughout the rest of my morning classes was: _"did you see the new girl?"_ My patience wore thin quickly and dissolved into a practiced form of selective hearing that kept some of the comments at bay. It didn't stop me from snapping at that little shit, Mike Newton, a baby-faced boy with gel crusted in his hair, when he went too far with his enthusiasm. He was shocked at my volley of curses. Unfortunately for my anonymity, it was heard by the teacher as well. I spent the rest of the morning waiting in the front office with bright colors and the pungent smells that made me feel slightly nauseated today.

It was hard not to feel nervous. Under normal circumstances the drugs made it easy to keep my emotions relaxed, but today I couldn't control anything my body did. I was sweating slightly by the time the vice principal brought me back to his desk. I flopped into the seat and hooked my legs over the arm rest.

"Mr. Hale, you realize why you are here," she said by way of an introduction. _Subtle_.

"Yeah, I use immature and vulgar language, I smoke on school property and I'm failing." I smirked when his eyes narrowed. He wasn't happy with me.

"Your language was inappropriate for our school environment."

He couldn't shame _me_; I had been through too much for such an attack to provoke me. I nodded and said, "You're absolutely right."

He was not prepared for my sarcastic genius. The disapproval on his face was laughable. "You are getting dangerously close, Mr. Hale, to expulsion."

I nodded in mock-contemplation as my heartbeat jumped into an irregular pattern. The shaking in my hands was back with ferocity; I closed my eyes and hoped he would not notice. _Could he see the sweat beading on my forehead?_

"I think it's my lunch block," I said slowly, almost dazedly. "I should go eat."

He released me. I stood up and turned to go, but for a moment I was shivering too badly to walk through the dizziness. The office secretary raised an eyebrow in my direction and I forced myself to keep moving. If I passed out here, I would never forgive myself. Taking a deep breath and shoving off the chills, I headed back to the school building to meet up with Alice.

She waited underneath her umbrella while I lit another cigarette with trembling hands. I took a long drag and exhaled weakly, the nicotine pulling my jittering nerves back into submission. There was no explanation to this feeling – nothing capable of letting me in on the joke.

"You don't look good, Jasper," Alice said as I stamped out the cigarette with the heel of my shoe. She reached up and ran her small hand across my forehead; a shiver swept through me that almost passed as a cold sweat. She frowned and, taking my hand, led me into the cafeteria.

I walked the same motions as usual, holding her loaded tray as she floated across the room. She slowed for an instant, grasped my hand, and tucked into a breezy ballerina twirl with poise. I balanced her food, and a bemused smile came to her face as we finished the walk to our table.

Edward was already seated when we arrived and sat across from him. The usual scowl on his face had been replaced by a more pensive expression that spiked my interest. He spoke first.

"Jessica has been filling the new girl in on us."

I glanced over and saw the blonde bimbo speaking animatedly to her quieter counterpart. Her lips were moving at warp speed, but I had no idea how Edward knew what they were discussing. I looked away and wrinkled my nose in distaste as a boy walked past with a plate loaded down with noxious fumes; it made me want to gag.

"Let her spread rumors," I said as Alice brushed a wisp of hair out of my face. I smelled the sharp Italian dressing lingering on her hands from her salad and turned away, holding in the gag that worked its way from my gut.

Edward and Alice exchanged a look – I saw it flash in his eyes – while I straightened up and refused to show the pain that was hitting me like fire. I gripped the table. My entire body was starting to ache and burn as if I had been struck with the flu; I let out a breath slowly and maintained my tense hold.

"You sure you feel alright, Jazz?" Alice was looking me in the eyes, and it was hard for me to lie to her. I shook my head and kept breathing steadily, concentrating on the timing of each breath.

Edward's eyes narrowed as his gaze honed in on my sweaty brow. "You have a fever, Jasper. Maybe you should have something to drink."

I shook my head vehemently. "It's just a stomach virus or something. I'll be fine in a few hours." If there was one person I would not tolerate pity from, it had to be my brother.

After some time, Alice sprang up and emptied my portion of the tray into the trash. I watched my bottle of juice disappear into the trash, unable to help but wish I could be drinking it. My throat was parched. Edward sighed, looked away grudgingly, and pushed his half-empty bottle of water at me. I took it without looking up at him and the bell rang; he jumped to his feet and disappeared before anyone else could move through the congestion.

Alice wrapped an arm around me as I stood up and handed me the keys to Rosalie's car. "Just in case," she said, giving me a warm smile.

If there was one thing I had learned in my years living with her, it was to never ignore Alice's intuition. I slipped the keys into my left pocket and, after an embrace between the two of us that made me realize that she knew something I didn't, headed unsteadily to my next class.

When I got to Biology I dropped my books onto the black countertop and put my head down. I let my mind drift away from the room for a moment, feeling the nausea and muscle pain ease as I set the mental break. Then the bell rang, my brain screamed in agony, and I sat up to find the new girl sitting apprehensively on the stool next to me.

Bella smiled at me, the first person who had welcomed her to Forks High, and I could not find the muscle strength to return the favor. Blinking my eyes was excruciating, so I stared. I felt like such an ass.

"It's funny that we have a class together," she said, though she had to know by now that _everybody_ shared at least one class with someone else. She was still smiling, friendly to the last.

_Oh God, I'm a bastard._

"Yeah. Funny," I said tersely through clenched teeth. My eyes left her face and found the text book; I studied it intensely, trying not to breathe. The scent of strawberries, normally a beautiful aroma, seemed to be coming off her in heavy doses. I felt sick.

After an awkward minute where she thought I might say something else, she turned away abruptly. A fresh wave of air kicked the smell of strawberry shampoo back to me as her hair obscured her from view; I gripped the table so hard that my knuckles turned white. My body bent, doubling over, and I rested my head on the cold table.

Throughout the class I managed to avoid answering even the small questions thrown in my direction with a mutinous glare to the teacher; he left me alone as I stared blankly down at the notebook in front of me. I needed to make it through this class – I was failing it again – before I could do anything… it was a waiting game between my mind and body. _Who would cave first?_

I glanced up at the clock and saw the clock ticking closer to the bell. I stacked my books quickly and took a shallow breath through my mouth. I pushed my chair back. A screech of metal on tile froze my body rigid, and I looked over to my lab partner, my face stilled into a grimace. She jolted back as if I had struck her and I realized that my eyes were hardened with pain.

I stood, clutched the books against my chest and shoved the door open. Mr. Banner's warnings went unheeded. My hand fumbled for the keys in my pocket, only finding them as I kicked open the exit door. Halfway across the asphalt lot, I heard the bell ring. I hurried to the car.

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**If you haven't figured it out by now, I try to reply to all reviews... so if you have a question, leave it and I will answer. Maybe you have a story you want me to check out? I'll do it! For free.**


	6. You Don't Always Get What You Want

Intox 6

The car pulled out of town and roared North on 101. I did not pay attention to speed as I flew past mile markers and speed limit signs, zipping around cars that were only going seven over the legal limit. I careened dangerously, my histrionic behavior most likely calling attention to a cherry red BMW going 100 mph on the highway, and made it to the halfway to the city limits of Port Angeles before I had to pull the car over.

I stumbled out of sight from the road and collapsed into a miserable heap in the mud. My brain was reeling, unable to keep up with itself. It did not register that I was going to be ill until I was vomiting violently and the senses could not deny it. It was painful; I felt my chest pop, my lungs burned, and still I could not stop. It was a purely animalistic feeling, to be out of control of your own body.

Gradually, my rolling stomach calmed and I flopped backwards onto the green hillside. I wrapped my arms around my chest to calm the chills, but it seemed useless. My body ached and I could not stop that either. I rolled myself over and scrambled up the slope to the car. I had to keep moving.

I rolled the car to a stop on the main strip of shops and restaurants, all upscale and swanky places that would naturally have a car of this magnitude parked outside. My own destination was less visited and not as aesthetically pleasing so it was a bad choice to take the car along. This car needed a babysitter while I was gone – Rose would kill me if anything happened to her baby.

The roads were surprisingly deserted for this time of the day; it was still afternoon. The skies were heavily clouded, deep bruised patches against a gray sky. A storm was coming… in more ways than one. I groaned heavily and opened the car door just before I vomited again. An elderly woman stared, her bony hand clasped around a young girl's as they stopped in the middle of the street.

I emptied my pockets of any identifying markers and hid them in the glove box. I was sweating, but I still grabbed the grey jacket out of the backseat and took it with me. The keys were stuffed down my jeans, and then I was heading toward the dockyards.

My dealer ran his business out of a crumbling warehouse right on the waterfront. You could fall out the third floor window and hit the churning grey waters below, which would make doing deals all the more frightening if you weren't familiar with the man. Grit covered the floors and the walls were lined with streaks of a suspicious make; it was an obvious drug den.

I slid through the space between the industrial-sized door and the wall. My shirt snagged and ripped on a rusty nail as I squeezed by. I cursed under my breath and felt the small of my back. It was bleeding. I hoped that it would not be infected.

Every time I entered this cursed building I am forced to look through all the filth and try to see in the dingy light. Someone had purposefully dirtied every window to support the title of "Shadiest Joint in America" or "Dirtiest Drug Deal."

On cue, he emerged from the stairwell. I've never figured out where his cameras are, but he always comes downstairs when I visit. I assume it to be because I always have the generous funding and apathetic nature toward spending that dealers love so much.

"Jasper!" He called out with a smile as he approached, arms open. I stepped into his embrace and tried not to notice the dust in his black hair. After a moment, he held me out at arm's length and looked me up and down, his expression disconcerted.

"You look terrible." I love Laurent; he looks out for me, and I can trust him.

We both looked down at my attire: the ripped shirt, mucky jeans, and vomit-splattered shoes. My hair was grungy and unkempt. I was clasping my left arm against my chest impulsively, knowing as sure as I felt the burning in my veins that I looked every bit the junkie that I was.

"I need a hook up, Laurent," I said with a sniff. I felt like I had the flu. The cramps, fevers, chills, and nausea were becoming unbearable.

He shook his head and the thick black locks flew. "I don't have anything for you today."

I reeled backward. "C'mon, man, I need some. _Bad_." My skin was crawling, my eyes watering. _Was I crying?_

"Not today, friend." His voice was edgy, too. I was intimidating him. He knew but wouldn't tell me. If I wanted anything, I had to back off.

A grimace split my face as I spoke. "Tell me someone else then." I took in a deep breath, half doubling over. "Someone else is holding, right?"

He looked away briefly. I could see the deliberation and conflict in his eyes. "I'll be back – it's just for today." He was still considering. I grabbed his shoulder and begged.

"_Please_. I'm jonesing bad – real bad."

His eyes were hard to read. They looked… sad as he spoke. "Okay, there's a new guy in the neighborhood down the block. Blond hair, leather jacket, the entourage. You can't miss it if you go left out of here; it's a wonder that the police haven't been called. The guy's a menace."

I nodded urgently and gave him a quick hug. "Any needles by chance?" I said with false hope in my voice.

He shook his head and gave me the characteristic scarf he wore. I wrapped it around my neck with a controlled laugh. We both knew that I had chills.

"You're the best!" I ducked out the door and headed to the building he had pointed out to me. It was the only other building that could rival Laurent's in dilapidation.

The only difference here was the bodyguards that sat idly on the front stoop, their movements stiff and pre-programmed like a Centurion guard. Under normal circumstances this sort of people would not let strangers in and I would _not_ venture to this dangerous of a den; it was decidedly not a normal circumstance, and when I went up to the door they gave me a quick once-over and let me in to speak with the dealer.

He _was_ blond, but that is where any credibility on Laurent's part wore off. There was no leather jacket, no dangerous aura around him; the man had never done junk a day in his life. He looked clean cut, the kind of person with more of a stalker aspect to him than brute violence. Even as he was reclined in a dingy armchair and I was saw that his muscles were compact and, perhaps, capable of overpowering me, he seemed far less dangerous than Laurent had let on.

"Laurent sent you?" He eyed the scarf and I realized that it had been more of a marker than a matter of kindness. It occurred to me that Laurent had known this man previously but had not told me the whole truth.

I nodded, completely aware that I was swaying from foot to foot in the middle of the room while he remained seated comfortably. I scratched the back of my neck and wiped off the sweat with my dirty shirt sleeve. A shiver ran up my spine and jolted my body. He smiled a crocodile's smile.

"How much do you need?"

I did the math quickly in my head. "two – no, three bags." I nodded to myself as I spoke. _That should do it for now_.

"As a new client…" he sighed, pretending to think while he drew out the time, "it'll be expensive. I've got to make sure you aren't a narc, don't I?"

He was full of shit. That's what his guards were for. The only reason people like him do this is to make more money off strung out people like me. _Fucking swine!_

"Money's no object, man." I pulled out a hundred dollar bill. "Just give me the goods."

He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward to take the money. I watched anxiously as he held it to the table lamp and checked for authenticity. We both knew the money was good. Finally, he murmured as much to himself and slid the bill into his back pocket. He shouted into the back for his gear and motioned me to sit down.

The woman who brought out the platter of drugs looked too full-figured to be a junkie, and I should know; she looked nothing like Maria. She was tall, with an hourglass figure and glossy red hair. I looked over her ripped jeans, small tank top, and the leather bracelet she wore up her left forearm. They might have downgraded her appearance, but her hair was too lustrous, her eyes clear. She moved with confidence, and she had no bruises.

"Here you go, baby," she murmured and brushed a kiss across his forehead as she placed the tray on the coffee table and left, her pants too fitted to be anything but designer. _Too polite_.

"Thanks." His eyes were piercing as he caught me studying her. He smirked. "You like?"

"Eh." I looked at the platter. It was hastily prepared. The warning bells were beginning to go off in my head: so many dangerous signs in one place all directing me to leave. _Now_.

I stood with a start, and the man jumped slightly. His calm façade cracked for a second. I saw the nerves behind his cold blue eyes. For several minutes we both stared into each other's eyes, too absorbed by what we were seeing to move. A clatter came from the back room and my eyes were freed; I looked around for the cameras.

"I'm peacin', man," I said as I backed my way to the door. I could be paranoid, but I wasn't taking that chance – not when it would go on my permanent record.

He opened his arms. "Where ya going? You won't make it far like that."

The man had a point, but I was panicking. Shaking. "As soon as I get those bags, I'll be arrested, right? I'm not going away any time soon." I shook my head and turned the doorknob.

"At least take your money back." He stood up and moved forward. I shied away and slid out the door.

"Just keep it!" I shouted as I tripped down the creaking stairs and out onto the rotten concrete sidewalk. He stared at me in disbelief until I rounded the corner. I was sweating, but my body felt ice cold. Laurent had betrayed me. I had to find a way out of here _fast_.

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**__****E/N: Off to Jersey for the weekend... to do my Journalism paper, practice my speech for Monday, and plan my trip to Boston! Please review or PM me in the mean time: I do love to see what people think.**


	7. Cold Turkey Doesn't Taste the Same

**It felt like cheating to give you another tiny chapter, even if there is a valid point to this one. So, here is the next chapter to tie you over until Friday.**

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Intox 7

I am miserable. I am dying. This is me, living entirely in the present. There is no thought to the past, none to the future. I cry tears of pain, and even crying hurts. It keeps me awake, but I want to fade away and forget. I don't want to feel myself die.

The pain is excruciating. It leaves my body in conflict, unable to decide between wracking chills or blistering fevers. I curl into a ball; my muscles are bunched tight and arguing over what to do next. The muscle cramps are beginning to set in now and the stabbing pains in my gut move into my intestines.

The nausea ebbs slowly, taking three steps forward and two back. I am sweating, covered in filth – I don't know whether it is mine or a product of the dingy alley. I cocooned myself in the bottom of some old porcelain tub, sweeping away years of natural grime with one broad motion before falling in. It was a last ditch effort toward normalcy, this worry about getting myself dirty. But now here I am, and _my_ grime is no different than _that _grime, and I swear to God I'm dying alone.

It's just how I imagined.

My eyes refuse to open. Smells – intolerable smells – threaten my sanity. I feel the bugs crawling on my skin. I know the prickle as they move over the sensitive hairs on my neck, my arms. Hearing the hiss of a thousand bugs… that is horrifying. If I open my eyes, though, I am afraid I won't see them. I am afraid to look into the fog that steals color and turns life gray.

"I want home!" I scream, but the sound doesn't escape my cracked lips. I want my room, my incense and my books more than I could ever want drugs. In fact, fuck drugs. I want the smell of Esme's spaghetti – even if she makes it without meatballs. I want Alice's embrace or even Edward's frown. Carlisle's soft reprimands are welcome.

It is not meant to be. Strawberries cling to the brain, sending me reeling as if I was at sea. My body is too stiff to move as I gag at the smell and am sick. Somehow it no longer matters that I'm lying with the soil and covered in it, too. My hair is plastered with sweat and puke already, so I try not to move. I try not to do anything that will make this Hell more realistic. I struggle to think of distant futures and happy smiles, but they don't exist; I try to escape into dreams and sleep, but it is impossible.

The chemicals in my brain are changing rapidly. The headache will deafen me, I think, but in the end it only magnifies the pain and makes rest more elusive. The bugs are increasing, too. I think there must be millions by now, all scrambling over the surface of my skin and burrowing into my veins; it is painful and I weep silently. My voice will not work.

The air becomes colder. The day has passed, I know. Could it really have been only five hours?

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**To all the concerned individuals - I enjoy the concern, so don't worry - Bella will be back in the story soon enough, but Jasper has (obviously) some things to take care of first. ~Mandala M.**


	8. Beneath the Waves

**_Your reviews mean a lot to me. Thank you for all the kind words!  
~Mandala M._**

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Intox 8

My rebirth was unexpected, thrust upon me before even Alice could see it. Time passed slowly while I waited. It was cruel to me. _Three days._

It was the smell that roused me. I opened my eyes and saw a streaked wall of porcelain. It took me a minute to understand that I was not looking through a camera, that this was not a film with absurd cinematography. This was my life.

I was curled in the bottom of an antique tub. No doubt that it had clawed legs. A layer of dirt had been there before me, but I had outdone it in one fell swoop. My pants were crusty, my hair stiff, and my shirt discolored from sweat. Every ounce of my soul wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the smell was terrible.

I sat up and gripped the edge of the tub for balance. My head spun as the aches returned; I fell forward, flipping out onto the dirty concrete. Looking up at the ceiling – and it _was_ a ceiling – I began to think. There were not many concrete alleys like this in Port Angeles that went under buildings; most of those were by the wharf. Most likely that was where I was. I had not gone far and that was good: I wanted the water.

My hands groped the gritty floor for a hold. I pushed myself up and clutched the wall for support. The smell and the insane need for water propelled me forward into a back alley. The city lay to my left, the harbor to my right. I did not remember falling down the stairs into the concrete Hell I was leaving behind, but new bruises and scrapes suggested that I had. I looked around trying to remember; I was lost.

I turned toward the salty breeze and staggered for the pier. A couple walked their dog down the boardwalk. They had their heads down against the spray; their eyes were otherwise occupied. _Good._ I stripped off my shirt, shoes, and pants and wrapped them in a bundle, which I kicked casually over the edge into the water. Bumps rose on every inch of skin, irritating even the old scars that never learned better.

I stood in my boxers and undershirt, tired, worn and filthy. I was a threadbare shirt that had been repurposed into a rag before being left to mildew. Disgust overwhelmed me. I just wanted to be clean. _Was that so fucking much to ask for? _With a quick glance to the couple on the horizon, I took a deep breath and jumped into the roiling slate sea below.

The cold water stole away that last breath upon impact. I was buried beneath the waves and pressed briefly into the silt floor. Sand and water ground against my skin, scraping it clean. It was loud, a furious noise that overwhelmed my body. The raw power tossed me against the thick wooden support beams of the pier. The rest of my breath went out of me in a _whoosh_ as the barnacles pierced my skin. I struggled, clawed, and forced myself to the surface with a wild gasp.

I breathed in a mouthful of water and fought the current that tried to sink me again. My body ached and stung in the salt water; I was bleeding, sick, and too tired to keep treading water. _But I was clean. _My eyes closed against the relentless waves, the water eased me into peace. I was almost ready to let go…

Strong hands were on my shoulders, reaching and slipping as they struggled for a hold. My ears were full of water, but I heard frantic shouting. _More hands_. There were new hands on me, new shouts, but it was slipping away. _Couldn't they see that I was useless?_ _Wouldn't they let me be? _I reached a hand up weakly as the waves sucked me under, and this seemed to appease them.

Suddenly there was a thumping sound reverberating through my chest. My back was up against something solid. I tried to twist away from the drumbeat, but the motion hurt. I coughed and panicked when I only felt liquid in my lungs. Soft lips were on mine, forcing air into my lungs, but my body heaved and convulsed and coughed. It was rejecting life; I was too weak.

My body snapped back and forth like a marionette as I struggled for breath. The wracking coughs brought up the water gradually and my body relaxed when the air was no longer forced . I opened my stinging eyes and saw the faces staring down at me. The sky behind them looked dangerous. I sat up and shivered as the man turned away to speak into his phone.

My arms wrapped tightly around my chest and knees. It is times of silence like these that I become aware of the hundred fine white scars that slice my skin like ivory – the way that my designer-label boxers are clinging to groin like a second skin – and it becomes awkward for me. I rocked back and forth. The woman immediately removed her shawl and put it around my shoulders.

"Thank you," I whispered. My mouth was dry and cottony. I looked around for the dog.

She nodded. "No problem." Her voice was shaky and I realized that it was because she had just saved a drowning man's life. She was terrified of me.

"Who's he talking to?" I jerked my head in the man's direction. He had one ear plugged while he tried to speak over the water's voice. It was hard not to be suspicious. _What would any rational person do?_

"Calling 911," she answered me and I started in panic.

"I'm fine." My voice was tense. Christ! _Was he giving directions?_

She shrugged and shifted on her feet.

"No, really," I said with a laugh that anyone could see through, "I'm _fine_."

"We'd rather be sure, though."

I sat back, defeated, and began picking at a scab in the crook of my elbow. The entire area was intensely bruised; it was a valley of sickly yellow and green skin. It was obvious that they were calling the police – no one could miss the tracks running up my arm – because they knew what I was.

Edward would call me a monster. He wouldn't be wrong.

"Let me call someone. Someone to come get me," I persisted. My head still hurt. "I don't need a hospital." _Or cops, for that matter._ I willed her to believe me and eventually, through the sheer magnitude of my charisma, it seemed that she did.

The woman touched his shoulder and shook her head. They seemed to have a wordless conversation before he murmured something into the phone and flipped it closed. There was enough time to afford me a sigh of relief. Then he handed me the phone and crossed his arms to wait.

I dialed.

The phone rang three times, in which I fervently hoped that Rosalie would not answer, and just before the fourth ring a voice picked up on the other end. Even though it sounded breathless, it was unmistakable.

"Yullo?"

"Hey Em, it's me," I rasped.

"And to think I almost didn't answer the phone!" His tone warmed as he recognized me. "Hey, bro, what's up?"

On the boardwalk I glanced up to the couple who were waiting for their phone back. I turned away and bent into my knees, cradling the phone and speaking quietly.

"I ran into some trouble," I whispered. "Can you pick me up and _not_ tell Rose?"

There was a pause in which he deliberated the cost-benefit ratio of lying to a woman who always found out. He told Rose nearly everything – hopefully not when it came to me – because his open face had left him with little room for insincerity. He finally answered as cheerfully as ever.

"Of course I can."

"Good." I actually sighed into the phone.

"So where are you?"

I paused. The truth was that I didn't even know. I looked around for a landmark but found nothing. Reluctantly, I looked back to the waiting couple.

"Can you give him the directions?" I smiled sheepishly and placed the phone in the woman's outstretched hand. They spoke for some time before she finally clicked the phone shut.

"He said he'd drop in soon," she said and I nodded.

I put my head against my knees and closed my eyes. The burning in my throat was painful, and my lips were cracked. Still, what concerned me most was Emmett's promise, which I doubted he would remember once Rose asked where he was heading off to. She could be utterly persistent, that woman, until she got what she wanted. The last person in the world I wanted to know about this was my twin sister.

_Please, Emmett, remember that,_ I prayed. _Don't tell her._


	9. A little bit awkward

Intox 9

He arrived thirty minutes later in his gas-guzzling Jeep. I knew he had broken every speed limit to reach me that quickly; knowing Emmett, he had probably outrun a few police cruisers also. He grabbed a bundle of clothes from the backseat and hopped from the vehicle.

My guardians looked up as he rounded the vehicle. I did not blame them for gawking; Em can make a strongman look petite just by standing up. Today, in his coat, he was massive. Characteristic of my big brother, he took in the full extent of the situation and just smiled.

"Hello," he said by way of introduction as he threw me my clothes. "I'm Emmett." He shook their hands in turn and made small talk. _Typical Emmett_. It seemed natural for him to diffuse an awkward situation through small talk. It was great for me, though, as I climbed into the loose clothing behind his veil of amiability. He was a great distraction.

I tugged at the collar of my thermal shirt and tried to smooth out my wild hair; it was useless. The shirt was too loose and I was too dirty. I handed the woman her shawl back and shook her hand, twitching a brief smile as I thanked them.

"I'll be in the car," I said and disappeared into the vehicle. They would talk long enough for Emmett to piece together what they thought had happened. _Fuck it_. He wouldn't say anything about it. I laid back the passenger's seat and went to sleep.

The driver's side door closed with a quiet _thud_. Emmett, was a true gentle giant, his caring nature extending far beyond what it should. He turned the ignition and the large Jeep rumbled to life. The stereo was playing Grand Funk Railroad; as a man who enjoyed life too much, Emmett refused to miss out on any music form that had a good rhythm.

"You awake?" he asked absently, eyes on the road. His hands cut the wheel and we pulled out onto the street. The music pulsed out of the speakers softly, so I knew he was thinking.

I closed my eyes again. "Yeah," I sighed. He did not say anything after that. As the silence wore on, I let myself drift in and out of sleep.

My head pounded to the beat of the music. It was something different, unfamiliar. I sat up.

"Where are we?"

"Route 104," he said, "but the next exit is ours."

I nodded, feeling slightly carsick. Obviously I wasn't up to one hundred percent yet. Emmett seemed to notice; he gave me a quick glance that could have been mistaken for watching the road. I almost believed it myself until he spoke.

"How are you feeling?" Though quiet, his voice was almost a rumble. As I blinked slowly – sluggishly – he looked me over again. "You know I won't ask if you'd rather not talk about it."

"I know," I said, "and I feel like shit. I just want to sleep."

"When we get home I'll make the guest room for you."

"Okay," I said and leaned back again.

Emmett and Rosalie shared a large apartment just off the Seattle University campus where they went to college. The area was expensive, but Rose's part of the trust fund our dad left us afforded it easily without necessitating employment. Technically, Emmett rented space there, though the whole family knew better. Even though he had a room for himself, I think he spent more time in my sister's room than his own. It was rare that he used it; typically, it was emptier than the guest room.

The brother in me should have cared more, but I had ceased to try to act like I could do anything long ago. Back in our youth I had protected her – and that had ended badly for everyone involved. More recently I had simply failed, a thought that still caused me agony. _No, Emmett takes better care of her than I ever did_. _Emmett should be the one._

Once upon a time, Rosalie and I had been inseparable. We did literally everything as a team, including choosing friends. When we were fourteen, we had gone to a parlor and convinced the man to give us each a piercing because we felt like having fun; it said a lot that mine was gone while hers remained. But, until recently, it had been the two of us against the world. Now she was part of "the world" and enjoying it. I loved her so I stayed away.

Soon enough, however, I was trudging up the stairs to their loft. It looked likely to have a promising view with the weather, but my nerves were shot. I did not want to have to face her.

"What did you tell her, Emmett?" I asked. My voice was not in obvious distress, but it sounded how I felt. _Horrible_.

"Don't worry." He clapped a hand on my shoulder. My knees nearly buckled. "She was at the gym when I left. I didn't tell her anything."

Somehow the idea did not make me feel better. I let my brother unlock the door and enter ahead of me, trying to postpone the inevitable. After surveying the foyer and the upper landing of their one-and-a-half floor pad, I was convinced that she was still gone.

"Does she always spend this much time at the gym?"

Emmett shrugged. "She likes it."

_Unhealthily so_, I thought but did not voice. Emmett got out a set of linens and led the way to the guest room, a smaller room stuffed with spare clothes that Rose, Em, Alice, and I kept in case of a spontaneous visit. I tried to help him make the bed, but he pointed me to the closet and told me to get some clothes. I took the hint and the shower.

The clothes I had stocked there used to be mine. Now they seemed comically large. They must have stretched. When I saw myself in the bathroom mirror, though, there was no denying I had lost weight. I turned my back on the reflection and opened the tap as hot as it would go. I wanted steam. I wanted obscurity. I wanted invisibility.

After the shower I dressed quickly, preferring the discomfort of hanging clothes to my own scarred body. It was too late to care, anyways. I padded down the hall to my bed and flopped into the feather mattress pad with a moan. My entire body felt weak and feverish – hopefully from the hot water.

In two minutes I was asleep.

I do not remember how long I slept. My dreams, when I remember them now, were frightening mirages. There were times that I dreamt myself awake; Rosalie was brushing the damp hair from my forehead, but her face was too pale and her eyes too heavily shadowed. It was grotesque. The rest of my dreams were vague shadows and blending colors, shifting paths of light and distorted smells that were two things at once.

When I _did_ wake fully, it was dark. _Night_. I was dying for hydration more than any drug. The kitchen asked for too much strength so I went to the bathroom and drank heavily from the sink. My stomach was weak from disuse and could not take even this. The water came up as fast as it went down.

Defeated, I splashed the water on my face and slumped to the floor. I raged against God and myself for making me so pathetic. I wanted junk. If real life was going to be like this, I wanted the heroin. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, and I could no longer hold it back. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed.

Sometime in the gray hours before dawn Emmett picked me up and took me back to the guest room where I tossed under the blankets until daylight. It was impossible to sleep. I sat up eventually and looked around the room; no one else was present, but the sounds of breakfast were echoing down the hall.

After a moment of deliberation I stood and, leaning against the wall for support, walked to the kitchen. Rosalie was behind the kitchen's island making coffee. She seemed to be smiling, but it was false; I knew that she was unhappy. As I moved to take a seat, though, she turned and saw me.

She was and still is like an Amazon: tall and toned. Her muscles are sculpted and her features were defined, even more than when I had seen her last. Despite the pale skin, with that immaculate hair she could make Giselle jealous. Her beauty is something she takes pride in, but at the same time it alienates her from the rest of us because she literally _could_ make Giselle envious. It is inhuman at times.

She smiled genuinely – I hadn't been expecting that – and offered me a glass of water. I took my seat and accepted readily. My stomach felt calmer, though it would be a long time before I ate anything with too much flavor.

It felt familiar and comforting when Rose sat on the stool next to me and slid me the glass of frosty water. I almost smiled because I had missed this. Both of us stared ahead, silent, and felt the silent communication lines open between us again. True, she no longer leant on my shoulder, but I could live with it. That's what she had Emmett for now.

"Feeling any better?"

I took a hesitant sip of water, then another. "A bit, yeah."

She glanced over as I tipped the glass back and downed its contents without stopping. "You're dehydrated." She frowned and got up to pour me another glass.

"I couldn't keep anything down for a few days," I said. It was not a lie. Actually, it was pretty accurate for me. I could live with her thinking I'd had the flu.

"Are you hungry?"

"Famished," I admitted as I drank the second glass of water.

My sister made me a small breakfast: scrambled eggs for herself and toast for me. While she worked at the stove, we exchanged careful words. The conversation was cautiously constructed and purposefully kept light. The most trivial things occupied our words, but we used it to ignore the awkwardness of my dropping in at her apartment – of the situation.

Emmett came out of hibernation shortly after I'd eaten, his eyes just a bit _too_ bleary, and offered to take me home after he'd had his coffee. I accepted gladly, even though the wrath I would face was of frightening proportions. They would either skewer me or create a buddy system.

When we headed out the door I waved a quick goodbye and promised – _lied, actually_ – that I would visit soon. My sister smiled and said she'd like that. As soon as we got into the car, I asked Emmett if he could keep her from the gym so much.

"She's too thin, man. It's not healthy."

He shot me a sideways glance before agreeing. "I know, but she says she's fine."

I nodded before he had the chance to tell me that I was one to talk, and he changed the subject.

"So how much shit are you going to get when we get home?"

I laughed, though by all reckoning I should be cringing in fear. "Don't come inside."

* * *

**E/N: Jasper feels awkward around his sister, though by all accounts they used to be BFFs. She's his twin sister, but she's in college and he's repeating high school... which is probably a level of Dante's Inferno or something.**


	10. Family and Friends

**I did not know Daddy's Little Cannibal outside of her wonderful stories, but I am sad that she is gone. I heard she liked Jeffrey Dahmer; we could have been good friends. Her story "Boy Meets Girl" was the first Twilight fiction I really enjoyed, and it was definitely the one that spoke the most to me. After that story I decided to start writing fics again. So, I owe her and her stories a lot; she will be missed.**

Chapter 10.

Emmett dropped me at the front steps and let me fend for myself. At the time I agreed with the idea. Hind sight is always twenty-twenty. Thinking back, I could have enjoyed his presence to diffuse the time bomb that was hidden behind the Mercedes' absence.

As I stepped onto the porch, Alice bounded out to greet me. She threw herself into my arms, almost knocking me backward. Her body was so small that I had to hold her up as my momentum carried us forward. Alice laughed, planting a kiss just off the corner of my lip as she wrapped her limbs tighter around me. I returned the kiss and ignored the less-rational side of my body. _God, I'd missed Alice._

"I knew you'd be okay," Alice whispered into my shoulder as I carried her into the kitchen. I smelled the smell of baking cheese and onion – she had made me homemade Mac n' Cheese, just like I'd eaten when I was a kid. I sighed. _I love Alice_.

I set her down on the counter, but she did not release me from her grip. Her arms remained tight around my body and mine around hers; we stayed there silently, our heads resting on each other's shoulders. I honestly don't know how long it was until she hopped away and poured me a glass of water, but I drank it quickly and thanked her.

"You don't want to eat now," she said. I shook my head, a bemused smile on my lips, and refilled my glass as she pulled dinner from the oven. Alice placed the glass lid gently over the dish before heading past me into the television room.

I followed her and slid onto the couch. Alice rifled through the movies until she found a musical that suited her taste. _My Fair Lady_. I knew better than to argue because she always manages to counter-argue everything I say. Besides, Alice picks her movies carefully; she is incredibly sensitive to anything involving prisons, cells, or some similar combination - she couldn't watch "Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang" because of the scene where the children are imprisoned. I have my suspicions about this, but it is one of the few things that are not open to discussion between us.

We settled in to watch our movie, our bodies probably snuggled too close together on the sofa as I wrapped my arms around her. _Fuck it. _I was too tired, and it proved to be obvious. Shortly into the movie, I fell asleep. My eyes closed and I heard the infamous "How _do_ you do?" but my mind was gone. I slumped over against her and, for the first time in what felt like days, I had a perfectly dreamless sleep.

I woke to hear Alice _shushing_ someone. For a moment I thought she was talking to me, but then I heard the footsteps and realized that she was only talking _about_ me. My forehead creased and I groaned; my head was being ripped apart.

I heard Edward – it must have been him – growl. "I'm going to fucking kill him," he said. I heard the thud of his fist connecting with the wall and knew he was truly angry, but then again, Edward had never approved of me. I was grateful when he stormed away, footsteps beating loudly against our hardwood stairs.

I did not want to wake up. Alice ran her fingers through my hair; I shuddered and rubbed my eyes, but I did not move.

"Is he awake?" Esme's voice was softer than usual from across the room. I could almost feel the anxiety washing off her in waves. She was desperate to know my situation. Was I well? How sick was I? Could she do anything? _I doubt it._

"He's getting there," Alice replied. "He fell asleep as soon as he sat down; I didn't want to wake him." But now she slid away from me and my head hit the couch seat. I groaned again and put a palm to my head.

"I'm awake." It was more a groan than a statement. Alice sat me up so I could look my foster parents in the eyes. I found that there was little more I could say beyond apologizing that I forgot to call. Carlisle shook his head and gave me the "we'll talk about this later" look before turning away. Esme, however, embraced me in a tight hug.

"Thank God you're alright," she breathed. I could sense the tears coming. "Alice told me and told me, but I kept imagining worst-case scenarios…"

"Don't cry, Esme," I pleaded. My voice sounded dull, but everything else had taken on a brighter tone. "We all know I don't die that easily." It was meant as a joke but, with my past, we all took it seriously. Esme tried to sniff back her gathering tears and failed; I wiped them away before they ran down her cheeks.

"Is there anything to eat? I'm starving," I said with a tentative smile. If there was one way to ease Esme's troubled mind, it was cooking. As long as I had lived with her, Esme had dished out love on a wooden ladle; food was the unspoken "I love you" of our house. Everyone knew it and we were all well-fed.

Esme composed herself quickly and headed to the kitchen where she heated up some of Alice's dinner for me. We all sat at the dining room table while I devoured the food, even Carlisle. Edward had not come downstairs again; I supposed he was sulking that the prodigal son had returned alive. When Carlisle began to speak, Alice quietly slipped away; it was only noticeable like a ripple was noticed by its reflection, but I missed her presence.

Carlisle did not yell at me when I did things like this. He was only ten years older than me so it would not have had much affect anyway, but his calm voice always unnerved me. In many ways I would prefer to be yelled at by him. I could have understood screaming – it was the sympathetic and rational tone that I did not understand.

It was when he told me in a firm voice that I had been truant too much this school year that my heart stopped. They had decided to hold me back another year, the fuckers. I pressed my palms against my eyes and held back the growl in my throat through gritted teeth. _How dare they? How _dare_ they?_ More than anything, Forks High was a prison that I desperately wanted to escape.

They were studying my expression when I looked up. I couldn't look them in the eyes; I feared seeing the disappointment more than seeing anger. It made it seem like they had hopes for me that I didn't, and I could never live up to expectations.

"I – " I didn't know what to say. I stared for a moment at the tabletop, unable to say anything of consequence. "I'm going to bed," I said finally without looking. "Good night."

My progress to bed was silent. Alice's room was empty and the window was open; most likely she had slipped out to sit in the trees before the clear weather turned. Edward's door was shut, but I could hear Debussy playing within. I smirked to myself as I brushed my teeth and changed. He was predictable; he had listened to Debussy whenever something angered him – when he didn't know what to do with his emotions. I laughed again as I slipped into bed, and I chuckled at a fading thought as I fell asleep.

…

The overwhelming thought of the morning was anger. Not only was I stuck back in school with people incessantly asking me if I was okay or telling me that I looked horrible, but it had gotten colder overnight. In a place like this cold weather only meant one thing: snow. I _hate_ snow. Because a colorful past like mine must involve some amount of travel, I had spent a good portion of my younger – happier – days in the warmth of the South. In fact, my accent was still present at times. But the affect that constant warmth had on me was a deep-seated hatred of cold weather. I had loathed our time spent living in Alaska.

Alice met me outside the cafeteria and went through the line with me. She got the salad bar and I held her tray for her again. The routine was perfect. We sat at the table and chatted as the time passed, ignoring Edward's solemn gaze for the most part. It wasn't until he leaned over and whispered into the air that I listened to him.

"Bella Swan is staring at you," he said. "She looks… well, pissed."

I stiffened. I had forgotten about her, the way I had behaved. I did _not_ want to face this – not here, not now, not today, not ever. "Is she still looking?" I asked him.

He glanced past me toward the lunch line and shook his head. I turned, followed his line of sight, and saw her. Her face was pale. I watched as she put the food on her tray back and picked up bottle of soda and a straw. I could not tell from her expression what she was feeling, but it looked bad.

"Fuck." I turned back and spun my bottle of juice, too nervous to think about actually drinking it. Maybe I could just go to the nurse. I had not felt good all day – I knew I could play up being ill to get out of class. That might work. It was worth a shot.

"It won't work," Alice said, looking through her lashes to meet my gaze, "so don't try."

"_Fuck_." I glanced over at her table and saw her looking at me; my face tightened and I looked away. "This is going to be bad. I just know it." Edward raised an eyebrow so I told him. "She's my _lab partner_." He only smirked at me, the bastard.

The bell rang and suddenly the whole cafeteria was in motion. I stayed seated, adamant that I would be late for class, until almost everyone had gone. Then I pulled myself up and trudged to class. This could only be made worse if she was good at science.

She was already studying a slide through the microscope when I entered. I slung my books onto the table and rubbed my hands, unsure of what to do. There were only a couple masks I could put over myself in this situation. I chose Comedy.

"Funny that we have a class together, isn't it?" I laughed at the joke. She didn't.

"_What_ is your problem?" she snapped in exasperation. I had to chuckle again as I rubbed a hand through my hair.

"Problem… you have to be specific. I have a lot of those."

She shook her head and pulled the slide out of the microscope. "Metaphase," she said to me. I raised an eyebrow; she made an exaggerated motion for me to write it down. _God, I love sarcasm_. I handed her another slide and scribbled the answer.

"So, how do you like the snow?"

She looked up from the scope and shot me a withering look. "Are you _really_ talking about the weather? I didn't think you were one for clichés."

_Oh, baby, I'm a walking cliché._ I laughed under my breath. "The weather is a big topic around here; sue me if it's a problem to you." I shooed her aside and looked through the microscope. "Anaphase."

She looked at me in disbelief. I shrugged. "Operor non exsisto decipio per vultus. Don't patronize me; I know my shit."

I gave her the next slide, and as she took it from me she glanced down at my hand. There was a silver scar extending out from my wrist, obvious in this lighting where it had been invisible before. I withdrew my hand and crossed my arms. She answered the slide then looked up to me, my face expectant.

"I hate snow, okay?" she said in a low voice. I relaxed my arms and scratched my forearm; there was still a crawling sensation. "I'm from the South so I'm not used to it; I don't like it and I never will. Okay?"

"Damn, I just wanted to know how you liked the snow." I started laughing and once I got going, I could not stop. She looked furious, her brown eyes blazing, her cheeks bright red. She turned away and worked with the slides.

I took a breath and looked at the clock. The bell was about to ring and I wanted to end on a good note, if that was at all possible. "Hey, I'm sorry for being a complete ass. I know you hate me and all – which, I don't really blame you for. I can be an ass sometimes. Where in "the South" are you from?"

She glanced over to the clock as well and hurriedly put the slides away. "Why would _that_ matter to _you_?" She grumbled, refusing to turn in my direction.

I was trying. God knows, I really was trying. My patience was a fraying string. "No idea," I retorted as the bell rang. I picked up my books and left the room.

Fuck friendships. I wanted a cigarette.

* * *

**Hey, those finals were a breeze. I even picked up some Consulting work for this summer and next semester while on campus! Only Philosophy gave me any trouble. Allan Bloom said that music was the ... tobacco of the mind? junk food of the mind? I couldn't remember.  
***The links are up on my profile for those that are interested.  
Oh, and I _officially_ got my interview at Suffolk University. Woot!!!**


	11. Won't Make a Fool out of Me

**Alright, so I can admittedly be a bit petulant at times. Like now. I decided not to write Bella into this chapter as a passive-aggressive attack. In the end, though, it took on a life of its own and now I love this chapter... tell me what _you_ think.**

Chapter 11.

Life is a horrible distraction from the self. When it gets bad, thought, you're stuck back where you started. Whether you jump from one meditation to the other, you are still miserable. You are still dealing with the consequences of your actions, the people around you, the current state of affairs, with yourself.

Then the people, the colors, and even the sounds fade; I am reminded in those moments how truly disgusted I am with myself. There is an un-illuminable hole in my chest that grows every time I stop long enough to notice – that reminds me no amount of living or thinking will change things and there is only one thing that will cover this bleeding hole.

And I am missing that bandage. I am _missing_ my heroin.

I am already bored with my life again. The monotony of life: question, answer, don't smoke, please, thank you, drugs are bad, knowledge is power… that is life, but it isn't the real world. The real world is a never-ending quest for escape. Life itself is a bore. The real world is exciting; it is a thousand highs locked away to be gradually discovered as I wade toward them through the sordid memories and it brands me with the pain as if I had been pressed against white-hot metal.

But I have no high to reach for, no relief from life; my stash is dried up and it hurts.

After leaving Biology, I kicked my way across the pavement. The snow was melting – _thank God _– but it was still frigid. I lit a cigarette as I walked to my finally class; the nicotine helped dull the edge, the nerves and crashing emotions that life seemed to kick my way from those surrounding me. A cigarette was the next best thing to a fix.

_Who was I trying to kid? _I had smoked between every class today, trying to keep my sanity. That was fraying, too, however. Even without people around me I could feel the emotions edging in again; long buried memories were swarming out of banishment to devour me. Before, I had focused on ignoring everyone and what they were thinking, doing, feeling; now that that was out of the way I needed something more tangible to keep the focus away from myself.

A life of sobriety was ruthless. Given a chance, I knew that I would find a way back to the drugs. Though it had only been seven days, there was no way I could do this again. I was not ready to take a break. Even as I crushed the cigarette butt in my fist, I knew that I would break my arm if there was any illusion of getting morphine from it. _If I just hit the wall hard enough…_ but, no, I only had one more class to deal with and then Alice would be waiting for me. I heaved a sigh and went in the door.

Mr. Banal was a miserable, somber old man who loved to make his students see through his dismal viewpoint of the world. Out of the two language teachers at the school, Mr. Banal had apparently gotten the worse lot in life; his room was not exuberant or obnoxious like Ms. Herrell's, but his dry voice was grating to the nerves. Ms. Herrell was Alice-esque in her peppiness – lucky for Edward that he had her first period class – but I was stuck with the husk of a man who made me want to kill myself. _Maybe if I hit the wall hard enough…_

I got into my seat and he had already passed out the quiz. It was a passage from the Iliad, un-translated, with instructions to completely rewrite in English. I cursed under my breath and struggled through the paragraph until I saw a few words that I knew. I scratched my scalp with the butt of my pencil and wrote out what I thought it said. I turned in the jumbled mess nearly blank, however, and received a knowing look from the teacher; I had been failing this class all semester.

When class ended and the final bell rang I was out of my seat and down the hall before anyone else could stand. Alice was waiting by my open locker; I stretched out my cramped muscles and threw my books inside. There was really no point in bringing them anyway.

It was still raining and I did not have time for another cigarette before the Volvo pulled up to the sidewalk. I sighed, resigned to wait the six minutes until we got home. Edward never let people smoke in on or near his car – it was a tic of his. Alice closed the umbrella and shut the door. Then we were off.

Edward turned North onto Rt. 101 and I knew we weren't going home. Suddenly the day that seemed so relentless had gotten a bit worse. I wanted my bed and my cigarettes – possibly in that order – and I wanted to be asleep where I couldn't feel pain. I was being denied my one chance at pleasure today.

"What are we doing?" I looked to Edward, whose jaw was set as he maneuvered the slick spots on the road with ease. It was imaginable that my voice sounded more alarmed that I had meant it to.

"Carlisle filed a stolen car report," he said without looking away from the asphalt. "It's in Port Angeles impound and, since you share a last name with its _owner_, you need to come sign for it."

At times I found Edward's brusque manner towards me nerve-wracking. I already knew that I was a terrible person; why did he have to make it worse? He behaved as if I was a willful embarrassment instead of seeing the side of me that tried to cope with myself. As much as I tried to live a normal life, to keep people from looking in my direction, he could not see that. At times it was all I could do to not tell him that he was blind.

"Oh, okay." The response took me some time to think through. My mind was swirling at a dizzying pace with flashes that I could not control or recognize. I leaned my head against the window and took deep breaths, trying to reel in my thoughts. I pressed the heel of my hand against my eye and willed myself to breathe.

We didn't get to the city fast enough and when we did I was the first one out of the car. Before even Alice could get the umbrella up, I had moved under the faded yellow awning that decorated the city impound lot and lit a cigarette. It was not doing anything. I lit another and took a drag of the double-barreled cigarette, this time feeling the calming rush wash over my body. A soft breath escaped my lungs and I let my siblings pass me as they entered the office.

The thoughts were recognizable now, and I recognized that they were directing me back to the dockyards. It was what I wanted – what I craved – but I had obligations to attend to. _Fucking obligations_. I kneaded my tense shoulder muscles and tried to take a deep breath, failing miserably.

Alice popped her head out the door. "Hey, we need you in here now." She flashed me a dazzling smile that I just could not return. I tossed my cigarettes onto the sidewalk and followed her inside with a vague sense of unease following me; I had never been one for police jurisdiction.

The man behind the desk was skeptical of me at best. I had guarded arms and nervous eyes. He looked triumphant when I could not produce documentation. We waged a heated verbal war that seemed to go in continuous circles.

"No, it's in the car," I explained again.

"So to get the proof to get the vehicle you need the vehicle?"

"Yes," I growled with a sniff. "That is correct." _Surprisingly._ I slammed my palms onto the counter's edge and gripped it until my tendons bulged.

"Why is the documentation locked in the glove box of a stolen car?"

Edward looked smug. I could read it on his face. _Yes, Jasper, why?_

"Fuck!" I snapped and jerked backward. My hands were shaking, my eyes were twitching on impulse; it was my temper that often got me into trouble and I knew it was frayed. I took a few rapid breaths. "I have spare keys, okay? Just… have someone walk out there with me." I tried to tone down my irritation – make it manageable – and he glared at me fiercely before allowing me _that_ opportunity.

The man who answered the call… I don't know if he could recognize me. I sure as Hell remembered him. How could I not remember those calculating eyes, that too-confident face? His face loomed in my dreams still as some irrepressible force of darkness, much like myself in that he wanted only to destroy lives. Sometimes in those dreams we got along, but that was only because we were both intent on destroying the same person. _Me_.

"This is Officer Reedus. He'll escort you back."

I nodded through wide eyes and followed, my steps suddenly shaky and my voice gone. _So, now I have your true identity _Officer. He walked me back and I thought about the situation, which was too overwhelming. He had seen me trying to buy junk. He knew and that alone would have been unbearable, but it was a signal of trust lost.

Laurent was gone. That pain ripped through me until I was amazed I could even walk straight; this hurt more than my time falling off the habit. Three days of Hell could not equal this. I had trusted the man over every instinctive warning that still worked in my fucked-up brain. How long had he been paid off for the police? I could only wonder.

I unlocked Rose's car and burrowed inside for my ID. The glove compartment was hard to reach, even on the passenger's side, because of the way cars were parked around here. Five days ago I would not have fit at all; as it was, I had to stretch. I wished to God I had a distraction. _Where was my lighter?_

"You feeling any better?"

I froze and scrambled out of the car. "What did you say to me?" My arms folded protectively around my chest. He looked me over again, eyeing the change in size I had undergone in such a short period of time.

His voice was almost a sneer, the scorn in his voice potent. He had never seen real anguish like I had. "Even if you have a rich family, it doesn't change the fact that you are just a rich junkie."

"Yeah, well," I shrugged dismissively. He turned away with equal finality, unable to read the searing pain his words had left across my body. I wanted to shout, to scream and pummel him until he was forced to shoot me in the parking lot because, honestly, his words were scalding and true. I was worthless and the emotions being ripped from my heart only proved it.

That's when I did it. I moved my left hand over the frame of the car and slammed the door shut as hard as I could in such enclosed space. The physical pain was beautiful, overwhelming anything my mind could tell me, but the sound – _oh, God._ James flinched and wheeled at the sound of crunching bones. I almost vomited – I could feel the sound reverberate through my body – but then the pain pulled me back and I smiled.

"Holy _fuck_!" the officer shouted and pulled me under the light so he could inspect my hand. The skin was not torn, but the whole thing was already swollen, taking on a mottled shade. I stared with that bewildering smirk on my face, and the pain in my hand drew my attention away from other pains; relief flooded through me. This form of self medication always worked. I studied the wound closely for a minute before realizing that he was expecting a better reaction than a mute stare.

"Damn it!" I cursed softly and shook my hand gently. People often do that, like it shakes off the pain. I even winced, though he saw right through it and gave me a look that I could now easily ignore. I hissed in another breath and held up the wallet with an uninjured hand, smirking at his shock that I seemed fine. _Hell, I'd been through worse, and not by my own hand._ "Ready?"

The rest of the process passed quickly. Even though my name was not on the Title, I had the identification to prove that I could claim the car. They let us go and, after the BMW was safe, Alice drove it home. Which meant that I was left with Edward, who was just waiting to bite into me.

_Great._

Even though I was sure he was going two times the speed limit, the ride home in Edward's Volvo was unbearable. Making me more anxious than before was the hand – because the pain was dim when I did not touch it. And that made the other pains and emotions resurface. My entire body was aching and it took a sharp knock to the hand to make it stop. Even _then_ my forehead was beading with a cold sweat.

We were about halfway home before I absolutely had to get out of the car. My eyes were closed and I was trying to control my breathing, but it was not working. "Edward," I hissed through a clenched jaw, "stop the car."

I caught his whisper – "_shit"_ – and immediately felt the ground come to a stop beneath us. Frantically, I caught the door handle and forced myself from the car as he waited. I gasped in deep breaths of the rain-streaked air while my head spun and I felt sick. It was impossible to ball a fist, but I managed to crack the useless hand off a tree trunk anyway; I screamed violently at the sudden burst of pain and fell to my knees.

Edward's hands pulling me to my feet… it's what I remember next, though there had to have been some passage of time. My mouth tasted like bile – _when had I thrown up?_ – and my muscles felt worn. My brother hauled me into the back of his car and closed the door. I groaned and tried to remember, but I had blacked out. There was no use trying.

When we got home, Edward put my arm over his shoulder and walked me straight to my room. It was horrendously messy, but he did not sigh as he usually would have; he slung back the covers and set me down, taking care not to brush against my hand.

"Thanks," I mumbled, though I was not sure for which reason I was thanking him or even if I was being sarcastic.

His eyes looked up to me in surprise. _I had been sincere, then._ "When did you break it?"

"Today… fuckin' cop," I said, knowing that my words were jumbled senselessly. "My hand… Rose's car."

"Damn it, Jasper, where do you know him from?" Edward's voice was dark, tinged in two very different angers. I could not label them if I tried. "No, you know what? I'm just going to get the first-aid kit. I don't want to think about it."

I was half asleep already, but I grunted an agreement. He came back, bandaged my hand in gauze, opened an ice pack, and taped it over my hand to lessen the swelling. I don't know where he gets this shit – all I can do is cinch tourniquets, which, when known for innocent reasons is a rather worthless skill – and he is Mr. Medic. _Can it really be that easy to be needed and useful?_

"Sorry I embarrass you," I muttered under my breath. Somehow he heard me say it.

"No, you don't –"he began, but I cut him off with my gaze.

"Don't lie, Edward. Everyone lies to me except you; I trust you."

He did not meet my eyes, but I saw him nod as he packed up the first-aid kit. "Right. I'll remember that." Once again, I could not tell how the words were meant.

Before I could properly consider this, however, I fell asleep.

* * *

**And on another note... I bought my first auto this week. Yes, I am the proud owner of a beautiful Vibe. Since I love both the music and the nickname, I decided to name by awesome new car Jazz. Luckily no one I know in the RW knows about Twilight or I would be made fun of sooo much more than I already am. =D I don't care. I'm star struck.**

* * *


	12. Bad Karma

12.

I woke slowly, in disbelief because my dreams had been angry and this feeling was not. My aching hand was stretched out before me, the ice bag melted uselessly. I groaned and stretched out. Alice was conspicuously absent, but I understood that to be the sweat-soaked sheets more than me. I could be reasonable in this case.

I got up, showered, and dressed before consulting my cigarettes. As I smoked I studied my hand, looking for spots too sensitive or of a darker swelling than the others. For once the morning seemed peaceful and the air still; I found that my head was clear – even if I was alone and without external distractions. _This must be what normal feels like_.

Alice knocked on the door and waited patiently. I admitted her – there was nothing here she had not seen before – and returned to the window for my unfinished cigarette. Alice wrinkled her nose and took a seat across from me as I leaned into the gray morning.

"You don't need to go to school today," she said.

I looked over and brushed the hair from my face with my palm. "_Why?_"

She looked desperate and unsure. I knew immediately that the nightmare had been fragmented. She was as clueless of what might happen as I was. "There was screaming, Jasper," she said finally. "I don't know anything except that it was your voice. It was in _pain_."

I snorted out a laugh and shook my head. Alice's dreams could be highly questionable, even to one as faithful as me. Most likely, it was a dream of no consequence – or a late arrival about yesterday's incident. Her dreams had been known to come too late, too early, or in the wrong settings before.

"Don't worry about it," I said, holding back a cough. "I'll be fine."

"You promise?" I remembered then that Esme was taking her to Seattle on a campus tour today; she wanted reassurance of my safety since she couldn't have proof.

I smiled softly, surprised that it was genuine, and brushed a wisp of hair from her face. Her fierce need to protect me was astounding. "_Promises_, Alice."

She closed her eyes and sighed.

There was a rapid knock on the door. Alice and I spun around like two kittens caught spilling the jar of cream as my door opened again. I flicked my cigarette out the window behind my back and swiped at the smoky air. It was only Edward, but he saw Alice with me and paused.

"You coming to breakfast?" His eyes flickered between the two of us before lingering on Alice. They narrowed briefly and she jumped to her feet and skipped from the room. Edward paused until she was out of hearing range before speaking again.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fantastic," I replied with a wry grin.

Edward chuckled and shook his head. "How is your _hand_ feeling?"

I looked down and sighed. I was not in the mood for a conversation right now; my mood was too good. "Like shit, and _no_, I'm not eating breakfast."

He shrugged and looked around my room as he did so. "Then I guess I'll get you before we leave for school."

I spread my hands and smiled widely. It was a sarcastic smile of sorts and Edward's face immediately lost its friendly glow. He turned on his heel and left. My smile faded back into contemplative thought. I did not think I could take any more bad days, and I was fearful of what kind of day today would be. My mood was holding solid, but I could not trust it to hold throughout the day; like an entirely separate entity from conscious thought, it had a notorious habit of changing without my consent and leaving me with the results.

The car horn honked and I looked down to see Edward waiting in the drive. I sighed and got to my feet. _Today_, I thought forcibly as I took a deep breath, _will be a _good_ day._ I was not sure if I was convincing karma or myself, but if I kept repeating the litany eventually one of us would believe it.

Our drive to school was awkwardly silent. Edward had his mind on the road and drove slowly, even turning off the radio as a precaution. I personally had not thought the weather was that bad until I had walked out of the house and slipped down the front steps. I _hated_ cold weather precisely for this reason – an abominable amount of snow, misery, and ice. Needless to say, I was excited when we pulled into the parking lot and I could escape the silver harbinger of certain, icy death.

Edward was already making his way toward the building ahead of me. I paused and for a moment, lit my cigarette and began walking as well. The going was tough for me, however, and I caught myself on the hood of his Volvo as I fell. I was already beginning to feel grumpier. _Damn weather._ A truck roared into the lot and I realized why karma was being such a bastard.

As she parked, I gingerly made my way over to the orange truck. She turned around as soon as she jumped from the driver's seat and checked the wheels – rigged with chains – and I cursed as I lost my footing again. _Why? Why must I right karma just right now?_

"Oi, Bella!" I called out to her and snickered, unable to keep a straight face as her surprise caused her to slip. _So much for graceful._

She turned on me. I almost recoiled from the anger in her eyes. "_What_ do you want?"

I was about to snap back and officially fuck over my karma when I heard an unearthly sound. We both froze, and then I saw the van careening toward her. The cigarette dropped from my grasp. My body was moving quickly before my brain could tell me to just let her get hit – just shout for her and stay out of the way – and, even when my efforts were so heroic, I lost footing on the ice again just as I grabbed her. We both fell; I heard her head crack against the pavement and cursed loudly as I scrambled to my knees, trying to pull her to safety.

It was useless. My vision was swallowed up by the overturned van as it spun around the corner of her truck. With one arm I managed to spin half of her body underneath the truck as I braced for impact. A wave of broken glass hit me before the van did; I flinched, dread overwhelming me at the manner of my death, and froze helplessly as the pain hit me.

The crash was… epic. I don't know why I bothered to brace for it; if my hand was not broken before it certainly was at that moment. I felt that pain, and then my face smacked against the ground as I lost coordination and fell into the van's path a second time. My vision crackled and turned to static. I held onto Bella tightly as we skidded across the glass and ice and came to a stop beneath her truck. There was an immense groan of metal against metal and then silence.

I opened my eyes and saw a dim haze of light before me. I breathed a curse through the pain and scrambled forward, pulling her with me. Once I had more room I peered down at her face; her eyes were closed, but I could see nothing else. I put a hand on her chest to feel for a heartbeat, but she fucking wore _layers_ so I had to check her neck for a pulse. She was alive.

I sighed with relief. "You okay?" I whispered as I tapped her cheek. She groaned and tried to move, but our bodies were still entangled and I was heavier than her. Her eyes flashed open.

"You hit your head. Are you okay?" My voice was low and fervent. She nodded, but I heard the uneven breaths coming from her body and that was never good. Her eyelids flickered. "Stay still… don't move."

I blinked furiously. My eyes were burning; it occurred to me that I was crying, but that thought was soon corrected when my vision went red. I was blind and unable to see the people who were flooding the scene. My first instinct was to wipe my hand across my face – and then I remembered the glass coating my skin. _Blindness it is, then_.

"Ms. Swan, can you hear me?" _A paramedic._

Bella did not respond. "I think she has a concussion," I supplied weakly, my consciousness fading in and out like a badly tuned television as I looked down blindly to where her face should have been. "She… hit… her head."

The voices turned on me. "Get him out of there."

I protested, but hands stronger than my will wrenched me free. There was a roaring scream as I came free, and, though the sound subsided as soon as I was on the stretcher, the pain would not go as easily. I was being jostled through the crowd, treated roughly like a package of meat as I hissed in shallow breaths. _Maybe that's what I looked like._ People murmured my name and I flinched with every bounce of the paramedics' steps, my pain threshold approaching.

"Fuck, it hurts," I complained and abruptly the jostling ceased. The doors were slammed shut and for a moment my ears rang. Silence and static quickly won over, however, and, though I was painfully awake, I lost sense of time or space.

* * *

**The saga will continue. There may be another update before I leave for Boston next week; I have not decided that. Maybe some reviews to get me over 100 will help me continue this so we can see further repercussions of Jasper's bad karma. If not: I'll see you in two weeks!**


	13. The Sabre Dance

13.

The gurney wheels squeaked loud enough to make me cringe. The pain was an entity of its own, a parasite determined to steal both my sanity and my soul. This is one of those things I had been hoping would not happen – that I found something _too_ painful to take my mind off of heroin. In the back of my mind I was already pondering whether I had known this would happen when I jumped in front of Bella – if, somewhere in the foul depths of my subconscious, I had actually _meant_ to get hit by a two ton van.

The nurses at some point had washed the blood from my eyes to the point where I could see again. My vision was still hazy, but I could see the bright fluorescent lights above me and recognize that I was neither in an OR nor in critical condition. My right hand reached out, padded around until it bumped a doctor. She ceased her prodding and leaned over me. _What had I wanted to say?_

For a moment I blinked, unable to remember. Then, a flicker of pain, and I knew. "Not Dr. Cullen – I don't want him in here." My voice was an unpleasant hiss – a mixture of pain and agony – and the probing fingers were across my body. My skin was tingling from what felt like a million insect bites; I could not tell if they were real or the product of a desperate imagination. I desperately wanted them to be real.

A hand touched my arm and I jerked away from it, though my muscles locked up with the pain and only helped to make it worse. The unobtrusively brunette doctor was explaining things to me – procedures and pain – that I was barely following. Why did _I_ care that they had to reset my shoulder or remove the little shards of glass from my back? I was in enough pain already – it could not get much worse than this.

In five minutes I felt like an idiot for even thinking that. The movement alone was enough to wrench a scream from my lips; it sounded like a demon being purged from my soul, matching the pain in intensity. The doctors tried to work quickly, but I was not a gentleman about it. A stream of curses and bitter insults slid through my gritted teeth as they made sure to bandage the tiny cuts along my back, something they had to do before letting me go.

I felt clammy, nauseated, and wimpy for not being able to take a little pain. My eyes were closed, my lips slightly parted as I gasped in breaths. My body was burning, especially my back. I wondered what ointment they had smeared on me to make it hurt so badly.

"Are you ready? We're going to set your arm now."

"No," I gasped, "it's broken! It hurts. I want morphine. Give me morphine!"

She smiled gently and told me that x-rays indicated that my hand was in worse shape than the arm as the doctors ignored my request. Their hands were on me, holding me still, and I felt the tension build. Loud, hissing breaths were echoing through the room. The threat was in their eyes.

"Don't you _fucking_ touch me," I spat, trying to throw them off. The grip was too tight –

"Counting from three…"

"It hurts!" I panicked. My voice was loud. "You're killing me, you sociopaths!"

"Two…"

"Get me morphine!" I swiped at the doctor on my right, my face livid as I tried to strike. "Don't touch me or I swear to God – _FUCK!_" The threat cut off into a yell.

They had not waited the full count. My back contorted and curled off the bed as the pain seared through me, hot, quick, and intense. It was gone just as suddenly, but my brain carried the aftershocks through my body. I reeled in the pain and fought the urge to vomit; it seemed a more acceptable solution to let my eyes tear, so I held back the nausea and gritted my teeth.

After five minutes, I could breathe again. After ten minutes of concentrated breaths, I could open my eyes enough to notice them prodding my broken hand; it should hurt but my nerves were overworked in concentrating on other forms of agony. After twelve minutes I realized that this bodily ache was not going away and I had no idea how long it would be with me.

After fifteen minutes: "How's the girl - Bella?" Like a wild horse being broken in, my voice reflected weariness and quiet pain. They had beaten me over without assuaging the pain and, even though I was bitter about it, the reasonable thing for me to do was ask about her.

"You can ask her that yourself," the doctor said. I could hear the smile in her voice. "She's been waiting outside for a while. Do you want me to let her in now?"

I looked down at my bare chest, covered in pale scars and fresh pink cuts, and took a breath. My arms, too, were exposed; no doubt the staff had seen my track marks. I cursed because it had occurred to me to use a femoral vein for shooting up – less noticeable – and at the time it seemed inconvenient. Now they would not give me morphine because they _knew_. _The bastards._

"Can I have… a shirt or something first?" I asked.

All the doctor had was a white sheet, but she pulled it over my chest before admitting my visitor. Bella entered quietly, her silence almost reverent, and sat down by my bed. There was a small butterfly band aide tacked to her forehead; it almost looked as if it had been placed there for show.

"How're you doing?" I asked with nervous grin. I still was not sure if I could be myself around her – she seemed just as prickly as I was – because our tempers mixed like volatile chemicals. Maybe Southerners like us were part cactus.

"They thought I might have a concussion," she whispered, nearly to herself, "but it was just a bump on the back of my head." She looked at my face. "I don't think they should have worried so much about _me_."

The attention placed upon me was unnerving; it needed to be relieved. "I'm sturdy – I can take it," I said with a laugh and rested my head back on the pillow. "But they _will_ have to worry if I don't get a cigarette soon. I'm not responsible for my actions then."

Bella laughed nervously. She was wringing her hands and biting her lip. _What was she up to?_ "I – I'm sorry for snapping at you this morning, Jasper." She paused and looked me in the eyes. My jaw was slack with shock at her words – at her use of my name, spoken gently and without judgment.

"Bella, I –" I closed my eyes and allowed myself a laugh, "I was going to apologize to _you_ for being such an ass the other day. Repair my karma and all that. _Damnit!_ You must think I'm quite the wit."

Her eyebrows pursed. "Now I feel even worse! I haven't seen it, but Charlie told me that there is a shoulder print in my truck. Some of the doctors told me that you were pretty cut up, and one even told me about your hand: they're going to have to remove bone fragments."

I tried to brush her apologies off. "Like I said, I'm durable. It wasn't even that bad, really." The scene flashed before my eyes. _The van… the grinding metal… the sound of my body cracking off the pavement._ I was lying; it had been horrible.

She frowned and remained quiet. After a few moments, she spoke in a hushed voice that I had to strain to hear. "I heard you screaming, Jasper, so I know it couldn't have been _good_."

"They wouldn't give me morphine." I shrugged and the movement stretched the fresh cuts in my skin. I winced and breathed in loudly.

"Maybe that's because you aren't a terminal cancer patient," she said in a dry voice that bordered on sarcastic. My first instinct was to snap back. _But where had that gotten me recently?_ I laughed and her expression lightened as well; she had the instincts of Emmett to diffuse an obviously awkward situation with humor.

I was getting insights into her – how she thought and how her emotions ran – but it would be foolish to think the distraction could last long. Our personalities were made to clash and it was only coincidence that had kept the snipping comments at bay for so long. The doctor came back in to announce that they were going to work on my hand before they put the cast around it.

"Do you want to stay, or are you squeamish?" The doctor asked Bella without consulting me – the patient.

"She's leaving," I answered for her, my voice suddenly hard. If there was one person who should know as little about me as possible, it was her. She would be sick; she would be disgusted.

_Would she be as furious as she looks right now?_ Her eyes were ablaze as she glared at me. She got up and, without saying a word, cursed me in all the tongues of Heaven and Hell. Then she turned and stormed from the room.

My doctor shook her hand and pulled the sheet back. She was swabbing my hand with a nasty-smelling antiseptic when I heard the movement and saw her out of the corner of my eye.

"Were you curious? Want a look?" I spat and turned.

Her eyes were averted from me. She was covering her mouth, and there was a bright blush flooding her face that was easily visible – even for a blind man. Her brown eyes were shiny and moist; she had already seen before I had time to notice her return. _Damn it!_

"I forgot my bag," she muttered with a sniff, still avoiding my gaze. I watched her pick up the bag and stumble over her feet in her hurry to leave.

The nurse in the room was trying to reassure me as he gave me the anesthetic for my hand, but it was obviously not his forte. "It'll be quick. We're just going to open it up and remove some of those bone fragments; those will cause more harm than anything else."

I wanted nothing more than to shout at him for telling me things I had no interest in knowing. Jolts of pain whipped through my nervous system, and they hadn't even sliced into me yet. I felt sick, nauseated. I closed my eyes and gripped the metal edge of the bed until my knuckles popped, and endless prayer for drugs running through my head. _Morphine, Vicotin, Oxy, Percoset, Codeine… Heroin._

"Oh, God_damn_it!" I yelped when the scalpel ran across my swollen flesh, pulling against still-active pain receptors. Either my pain tolerance was plummeting or they were finding new ways to cause me bodily harm. There was no reason for me to have to keep dealing with this shit. It was unreasonable.

Then it occurred to me that this all _was_ reasonable. It's just that karma was a bitch.

* * *

**So I'll see you all next week. I'm now off to get my car from the shop and take it back to the dealer... I could curse fiercely because the catalyst converter is shot and I have to spend $$$ for a new part. Bollocks and sucks to that! I'm getting my WARRANTY to cover it. ARGH!**

**Also, the New Moon Trailer.. ooooh buddy! I knew I loved Jasper, and seeing the trailer makes me love him a bit more - if that were possible. Just the ferocity in his eye. Yowza.  
Oh, and I was skimming the news the other day: the bishop of my region retired. His name? Edward Cullen. hahaahahaa... to funny to be true, but it was!**


	14. Tramadol and Other Distractions

**Btw. It pretty much goes to say that an M rating has the potential for gratuitous cursing, smut, darker subjects that some may find a bit uncomfortable, and downright ;p porn. I don't know how I feel about it, but I am pretty sure that (given that I've already rated the story M for a reason) I'm not going to re-announce it if it comes up. That seems reasonable to me. You?**

14.

I was released that night with an arm cast and a bottle of Tramadol. Carlisle drove me home, asking me how I was feeling several times during the short ride. I finally relented and told him the truth: I was concussed, my body felt broken, and I was still terrified from the crash. He told me that I was going to stay up late for game night so that he could monitor my concussion. It was not something I felt like doing, but, despite this, I smiled. I had pills.

The family members were beside themselves. Esme hugged me close and peppered me with kisses until I called her attention to the fact that I was in pain. Alice gave me a subdued hug, which meant she was upset that I had not kept my promise, and let me wrap my good arm around her. Even Edward expressed gratitude that I was alive, though he chose to verbalize it rather than physically embrace me.

"Glad you're alive, man."

I could only think to thank him because the phone was being handed to me. It was Emmett and Rosalie. I wondered how they knew and made a quick mental note to question Alice later, when we were alone.

"Hey, Superhale, how you feeling?" Emmett's voice rang across the wire.

I chuckled. "No longer able to leap over tall buildings in a single bound, but it will be okay. I've decided to keep the hero suit off for a while."

On the other side I heard Rosalie's voice. "Tell him to stop reading comic books!" Behind the humor, I heard the worry in her voice. I felt the full irony of her concern but did not smile. It actually irritated me that she, in all her infinite struggle and emotional scars, could think _I_ was the breakable one.

"So," said Emmett and his voice turned serious as well, "are you staying away from trouble?"

"I just got back from having bits of my hand surgically removed - what do _you_ think?"

Emmett chuckled to himself before becoming serious. "No, really – are you still sick?" I instantly knew that Rose had put him up to this awkward task.

"No, I'm feeling better," I said, noticing for the first time that our conversation was not exactly private. My mouth was open to say more and there was a hesitant pause in our conversation because he knew I had been about to continue – continue on to say "it's all in my head now" or "I just wish I could stop thinking because I'm fucking going crazy" or even that I was sorry.

Instead, I turned away from my family and cradled the phone closer to myself so Esme couldn't hear. "I really fucked that flu bug up – kicked the _shit_ out of the bastard."

"You need to work on those lies, little bro," said Emmett through the phone. "And I feel like I have to warn you: if you do this to Rose again, just drop in like that, I will be the end of you. Okay? We were worried."

"Okay, Okay," I reassured him, noticing that he had tried to be macho and make it about Rosalie but failed. Still, this conversation was going nowhere fast. "Hey, can I talk to you later or something? I've got to go."

"Sure, sure. Have fun eating tofu for dinner; Rose and I are going out for steak."

"_Fucker,_" I growled into the phone and Emmett roared with laughter as he disconnected the line. I handed the phone away and shook my head bemusedly, all annoyance gone. _Only Emmett._

That evening it was quiet in the house. I could detect no animosity from my brother, no guilt from Alice, and the worst emotion I saw flicker in Esme's eyes was disappointment when Carlisle beat her hand of cards playing Texas Hold 'Em. In the end of that game, however, Edward still came out the champion as he always did, his side of the table teaming with neatly stacked Poker chips of varying heights. He was simply too good at reading people, which was a major reason why Alice and I – though we did share that love of cards – usually fought for games like Charades or Pictionary: those were two games where _we_ had the advantage.

The game night finally wound down an hour before midnight when I was officially released from "concussion watch." Edward had, of course, swept us away at the card table. Alice and I had dominated as a team in our two game choices because, together, our minds worked as one entity. Go figure that Carlisle would choose medicine as his interest in Careers and that Esme won the game of Life. It honestly confuses me why we bother having game nights when we already know who will win what, but we all participate anyway and end up smiling as we lose Life to Esme and her carload of pink and blue pegs.

I popped a pill, changed, and climbed into bed before I had time to remember to change my bandages. I would not have done it anyway – it was time consuming and painful. As it was, my entire body was encased in a dull, almost distant ache that just would not die down enough to let me be. I did not need to stretch my skin and pull arm hairs twice a day to change bandages when only once a day would suffice. I was not much of a masochist.

Alice slipped into my room five minutes after I'd laid down. I lifted the comforter and she snuggled in next to me. I rested a plaster-coated arm over her waist, reveling in how it felt like a return to normalcy, and she curled her hands around my casted fist. In the days that I had been back, I had thought I had missed her calming presence. Now I knew exactly how much I had missed her. _Too much._

"We were going to eat breakfast with Rosalie and Emmett at Chez Shea," Alice mumbled after a moment. She was falling asleep. "And then the phone rang. Mom thought it was Carlisle, but it Edward was at his office. I had to tell them why we were cancelling the breakfast date, you know?"

"Of course," I murmured, unable to find a timeline for when Edward had been at the hospital. I had not seen him. "And I'm sorry that I made you worry, Alice. I know I promised."

She made a noncommittal sound as she fell asleep. I smiled to myself as my eyes dropped also. Within minutes, I had followed her down the rabbit hole.

The following month, Bella and I did not even try to speak to each other. After the tragic results of our last conversation, I had decided that this was for the best and instead befriended my prescription. It made my arms jittery and my eyes wild but also managed to take the edge off life, which I appreciated. Within a week I was abusing it and the painfully bright colors of my mind had faded into soft shades of gray.

We sat in class, leaning away from each other as was now usual, and ignored each other. The silence was stony. She ignored me, fallen over the desk, my chin propped up by books and a heavy plaster cast; I no longer pretended to pay attention because it was useless. I was able to accept fate and fail. _Again._

For my part, I ignored the endless stream of boys whose flirtatious advances were only as bad as their overpowering cologne. I could hear the tired smile in her voice when she spoke with Mike Newton and almost feel the discomfort that she did when he sat on her desk, directly in the way of her studying. The words he said were incoherent – pure babble – and yet he seemed to find them amusing. But I managed to ignore him.

We had been assigned a project on ecosystems two weeks ago. So far, Bella had done all the work while maintaining the curtain of silence that hung between us. I think she decided to go with the human body as an ecosystem, but it was never proper to assume and I was too lazy to ask. If she did not want to talk to let me know, I was not going to ask.

Mike Newton was painfully loud today, but there was something off about his voice. It lacked the usually boisterous attitude that pissed me off so much. I was curious to know what his problem was, but the end bell rang before I got the necessary energy to look. He and Bella walked out of class together – which was weird, considering she usually lost him in the crowd and escaped. It was too bizarre, too uncharacteristic. _What was she thinking?_ I _had_ to know.

It did not take much effort to catch up. In fact, Mike had turned and nearly cornered her against the wall; Bella looked both embarrassed and awkward as he stood so close to her. I slowed to hear their conversation while maintaining a neutral distance. A thought distinctly passed through my head that this was going to be good.

"Did you want to ask me to the Spring Dance?" Mike said, his voice nervous. I held in a smirk, not wanting to distract from the beautiful moment between the two as I walked by.

"That weekend?" She was panicking. I could hear it in her voice that she had no good excuse to say no; she was stalling. But then I did a very stupid thing: I glanced over to see the petrified look on her face and she saw me. "I'm going to Seattle that weekend," she supplied quickly, her eyes flicking from mine to his. "There is a Science exhibit that ties into my project _perfectly_."

_So she had escaped. _I cursed under my breath, turned away, and went to class.

I waited for Alice in front of the school with the umbrella; she was speaking with the art teacher about her works being put on display and, I believe, she needed to bring one home to retouch. I was here to make sure her artwork did not get ruined in the weather, but my mind was calculating how fast we could get home or how fast I could write up a fake prescription. After this it was only a quick bounce to the hardware store to pick up some paint for Esme before we headed home, but that seemed like an eternity when I was standing still, counting the minutes since my last pill.

I needed something to occupy my mind, and the orange behemoth provided the relief. Bella brushed by a boy and slammed the door of her truck as she jumped in; he went away with a dejected air to him that made me think he had just been rejected. The truck swung into the lane and stopped just short of Edward's car, which was idling with its flashers on. She looked… pissed.

Alice stepped under the umbrella and I looked away from the unfolding scene to secure her under the umbrella as we made our way to the Volvo. With one arm she clutched a canvas to her chest that was dirtied with shades of graphite,* but the other arm was linked with mine. She smiled serenely and I opened the door for her.

"So I take it your meeting went well?"

"Oh, yes," she purred, "it did." But she would not give me any extra information.

I slid into the car after her and shut the door. Edward pulled out quickly, his face contorted in the effort to conceal laughter. He glanced to the review mirror and burst into howls of laughter as we pulled into the street. Looking back myself, I saw Bella's wrathful face and had to chuckle.

Yes, she was definitely a distraction.

_And I liked it._

* * *

**I hope some of you caught the true meaning of what Jasper says... think and ponder.  
Also, my apologies for cursing about the car to whomever I cursed while writing to. That's a my bad - it was all solved while I went for a long weekend up to New England and Bahston. Know what I did? I Pahked the Cah by Hahvahd and toured the city - had a wicked awesome time, too! Then I went and toured a Vanderbilt estate: the Marble House AKA their summer cottage. WTF! Summer Cottage my butt!**

***check to profile, yo! It's adorable.**

* * *


	15. Regret

So, I chose some filler music that I love to go with this chapter. Probably doesn't fit but oh well.

* * *

15.

The car came to an abrupt stop as Edward turned into the parking space. He looked through the door and then looked back at Alice and I. Some hesitation was keeping him, even though he wanted to run the errand just as quickly as I did and be home. Finally he said he'd check if the paint was done. I mentioned that I had to run across the lot; his eyes narrowed but he slid out of the driver's seat and entered the store through the dingy glass door without voicing his opinion.

I ran next door to the pharmacy as soon as Edward's figure disappeared beyond the door. My prescription was getting dangerously low, had been for some time, really, and I needed – no, I preferred- to get a refill. With my doctor's note stolen and forged straight from Carlisle's office, I advanced to the window and presented the script. The girl in the window looked familiar, but I had not seen her in here before; I gave her the paper and studied the racks of cough drops, condoms, and candy.

"Alright, Jasper," she said as she handed over a small white paper bag, "here you go."

Her voice lingered on my name, stretching the moment uncomfortably. She was trying to invite me in for a chat, I knew, but I was still stuck on how she knew my name so quickly. _Prescription, you dumb ass_, the little voice whispered to me. I ignored its quiet insistence, snatched the bag from the girl's hand, and left. Part of my mind registered that the movements had been too abrupt, but I continued on my way and ignored that part of my brain, too. _I would go crazy if I listened to myself all the time._

The paper bag was discarded immediately for the orange bottle within. I flipped the cap open. As I crossed the parking lots, I popped a few into my mouth and swallowed. Thanks to years of practice I can now take pills while suffering from even the worst cotton mouth. As the old adage says, practice _does_ make perfect. _Just one more thing I don't have to worry about_.

Alice waved to me as I passed into the store. I stuffed the bottle discreetly into my pocket – discreet because I had been taken off the medicine some time ago – and flashed a quick smile as I hurried through the door. Edward was waiting for me at the counter.

"They fudged the color," he said. I nodded as if I knew what the original color was supposed to be – what he was talking about. "I talked to mom, though, and she wants the bad batch, too; it will be a few minutes."

"Oh." I digested what he was telling me before realizing that this was actually my luck. "Then I'm going to check something out. Tell me 'when.'"

He nodded and I sped away toward the aisles. Last month, when I had disappeared, Alice had thrown away my entire kit. She confided it to me later, though I hadn't thought of looking for it yet myself. At first I had been angry – who was she to dictate what I did? – but I quickly came to realize that she had simply gotten rid of the evidence before Carlisle or Esme could raid my room looking for clues. It made me appreciate her _that much _more.

Not that I was going to be cooking up any time soon – especially if my string of bad luck held out – but I was still curious as to my options. I was thinking of something in a nice _blue_ instead of that dingy standard color I'd used before this unfortunate mess had shifted my life's course. Of course, my options here were pretty limited; in fact, I realized almost immediately that it was a waste of time and hope for me to round this corner. Even as I crouched on my hams to study the lacking selections, I lamented the effort I was putting into this. It made me seem too desperate.

A shadow fell over me and I heard a sigh. I smelled the shampoo immediately thereafter and stood. It still managed to turn my stomach, though I was sure if my nose weren't so attuned with it and my mind so repulsed by my first memories of it I would have loved the scent. When I turned, she stepped back as if she'd been looking over my shoulder.

I frowned momentarily before affixing a generic smile to my lips. "Can I help you, Bella?" I asked dully.

There was a retort forming on her lips, but I could see another future forming before she had a chance to speak. She would blush and admit that she was taking care of some trivial thing around the house. I allow myself to imagine me the hero, the dashing smile sincere as I point out the details of this one section of the store where I am not an imbecile. I will ask her a few questions about the project, and she will sheepishly mutter the answers while I pick out the diameter of tubing she needs – just larger than a good tourniquet strap – and cut a solid length of it from the reel.

But that was my fancy, my wish to be able to hold a decent conversation without ruining it. She had already spoken, and my future was now an alternate universe.

"I really doubt it." She turned.

I reached out without meaning to. "Hey, I'm actually trying to be polite here."

She pulled away, just out of reach, and gave me a look of disbelief. "Polite? Either you're an asshole and you don't know it, or you're an even bigger ass because you do this on purpose! Maybe you should decide right now if you're going to play nice because I'm sick of living with your regret."

"Regret?" _Did she just call me an ass?_ I'd never really heard her curse before; it was odd and unfitting for her good nature.

"Yes, Jasper, _regret_," she spat the accusation out with a force I hadn't thought possible. She was as scary as Alice got when she was angry. I took an involuntary step backward. "Because I know that you are _angry_ at me for everything I caused – that I obviously got in the way of your life, annoyed you from day one, broke your arm – and I'm not stupid. I realize that you _hate_ me, okay? Stop acting like you even _want_ to care."

Her enunciation made every word a slap to the face. Surprisingly, the words actually stung. "You – you think I wanted the van to kill you." It wasn't a question; I was simply putting the pieces together that had been so jumbled before.

Bella's words were simple enough to leave me reeling. "Of course."

I heard the loudspeaker calling me to the front of the store. _Edward._ He needed me to help carry those buckets of paint, and I was only supposed to have been gone a few minutes. I no longer knew what time it was or what was happening. _The colors had faded to gray_. I was standing in an aisle with Bella and only vaguely aware that she had just shell-shocked me.

"I've gotta go," I mumbled and brushed past her, not daring to look at her because she was able to see through me when I did. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and walked back to Edward. He handed me two tall buckets of soft marigold colored paint and heaved the rest himself.

"Let's get out of here," he said and for once I absolutely agreed with my brother.

I wanted out. Out of where? _Here?_ Out of what? _This situation?_ I didn't know and I didn't care. I just wanted out. _Now._

**I debated on whether or not to post tonight. In the end I said, "duck it! Let's do this." We're getting into the good stuff now, folks! I know that because the next chapter has been written for a few days and I like it. Check my profile for Chapter themes n' such.**

**Mandala's Great Idea of the Day: go read "Broken" by Inside-the-disarray. It has a fantastic portrayal of tumultuous emotions, even if I haven't figured out Bella yet. It doesn't hurt that the sentences are well put together and subtle, either. =)**

**This hurts to admit but while I was in Boston, 100 Monkeys played at the club I frequent in Allentown - Crocodile Rock. I.. I... missed... it and I bet they played the Jello song. Damn.**

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	16. Too many Too much Too soon

**I wanted to thank all the fans of this story out there for their Alerts, Favs, and Reviews. I have been nominated for an Indie Award, which is wicked awesome! Now, if you don't already have plans to vote, I suggest you consider doing so - not even for me, necessarily - because there are a great many who deserve an award. "Broken" by Inside-the-disarray has been nominated as well, I doth believe. **

**BTW: I do keep track of the soundtrack for this story on my profile. Can you dig it?**

16.

I did not want to think about Isabella Swan. She forced my thoughts into a whirlwind, one gray blur of confusion that defied my self-medication and loud music. I felt dizzy with her in my head, and I was unable to stop the thoughts from churning. This is the sensation that I hate most – the irrational feeling of helpless falling – and it was a deciding factor in my path of delinquency.

I did not want to feel this way. I just wanted it to go away, but I knew it wouldn't.

As soon as we had gotten home and unloaded Esme's paint, I had shut myself in my room. Moreover, I had locked the door and thrown the proverbial key. The important thing had been to make everything slow down because it was all moving so fast around me that it blurred. I had taken roughly half a bottle – _had it been only half? _– of the pills, spilling a fraction of them across my bedroom floor; my hands would not stop shaking.

I tore the cellophane wrapping off my television and twisted the knobs with frantic speed. The movie came on like a particularly bad dream, a demented cartoon that looked as if it had been created straight from my nightmares. The lights were off and I threw myself over a giant beanbag chair to wait for the Tramadol to take effect.

That had been thirty minutes ago. I was still sprawled out, but now a thin pillow was pressed against my face. I had given up trying to decide if I was smothering myself, holding back the side effects that were lashing through me or shutting down my senses a long time ago. The muffled sound of Pink Floyd reached me through the batting; the band was my version of Debussy – my motivation for self pity and moping – and I could easily identify myself with a particularly dark concept of theirs called The Wall.

_Mother, is she good enough? Is she dangerous? _I hated that every painful emotion could be related to this album. The Wall released even the emotions I avoided and hated, but at least it created a diversion of music.

Her words… I could not lie. They had seared me to the core. Somewhere inside my dark and blackened heart it had actually mattered what she thought of me. I had kept a distance so she would not see the real me, but the plan backfired. She thought I wished her dead and that was ridiculous. I could not have stood there that day and let another death become my fault. While my mind might have been clouded with grandiose notions of morphine and opiates, the absolute truth was that it was more about Bella than anything else.

And that opened too many emotions – too many doors into my past.

A scream built in my throat and came through my clenched teeth like a growl. I beat at the pillow over my face, cursing as I did. My limbs were becoming disjointed from my brain – not entirely unexpected but stronger than usual and unpleasantly so. I refused to cry, to let even more of a display of weakness through my restraints, even as my eyes began to burn. In the back of my mind I tried to remember if this was normal.

The door reverberated from the knock, and I froze. It was Alice, no doubt, but I wanted to be alone with myself and my music. _Leave me alone._

"Go away, Alice," I grunted, surprised that the sound came out weaker than the angry voice I had imagined in my head.

"Jasper, let me in." She sounded anxious from the other side, but I wanted alone time.

"No."

"I'm not leaving, so let me in now and save some time."

"You'll miss dinner."

"Dinner was an hour ago."

Was it? For a second, my mind flickered with doubt. When had I taken my pills? I had taken them before the movie, but… I tried to think… if it has been so long, did I take more? How long had this movie been on? _Fuck._ _I need Alice._

I groaned loudly and flipped onto the floor. Pills crunched beneath my feet as I staggered upright and forced myself to the door. Alice was still there, and she forced her way through the small crack I had opened. I knew she was surveying the room, but I closed the door and walked back to my seat with as much dignity as I could muster.

"Jeez, Jazz," she murmured and knelt to pick up the pills that dotted my colorful floorscape. I stepped over her and flopped – more of a controlled fall, really - back into my seat, which erupted in a cloud of dust and Tramadol. My eyes were open but my vision was fading around the edges like a thick fog just beginning to cloud a windshield. Somewhere to my right I could hear the clacking of pills against little orange bottles; it sounded like maracas.

"Hey, Alice?" I could hear the sound of her hand sweeping across my floor, but she crawled over and peered into my face. Just the sight of her blurred features brought a smile to my red eyes.

"Hmm?" _Was that a frown I detected?_

"When is a door not a door?"

_Yes, definitely a frown_. "What?" she sounded as confused as I felt, but it made me smile.

"When it's a jar," I said with a chuckle that turned itself into a raucous laugh. It sounded sick, demented, and it made me want to cry. I sniffed in a few ragged breaths and let the laughter's hysteria grow.

"Jasper?" She grabbed my shoulders. "What's wrong?"

I tried to open my mouth, say the words and lie, but a pitching whine was all that came. It was too much. My body was rebelling. When I tried to sit upright, it curled into a ball. When I went to reach for Alice – poor, frightened Alice – my hands went to my face. I touched my cheeks, wet with sweat and tears, and my heart shook. _Good Morning, The Worm, Your Honor…_

She seemed to guess immediately. Her small hands rested over mine and she forced me to look into her eyes. "Jasper, how many did you take?"

I held up a shaking hand, bowled into a dish, and shrugged. I thought it had been half a bottle, but it was probably much more. I keep convincing myself that my stash is running dry, but if I bothered to clean my room I would probably find hundreds of little discarded pills.

_The Prisoner… caught red-handed showing feelings_.

"An almost human nature," I murmured foggily. _Too much._ I was in pain, my stomach clenching painfully. It hurt worse than the burst appendix I'd had as a child – worse than the pain I had sobbed through for two days before my mom was allowed to take me to a doctor because my abdomen was too inflamed for me to go back to school and because he felt merciful. This kind of pain was unwanted; it reminded me of my past because it came without warning, without desire, and so emotionally charged that I physically hurt. I felt like a child again. I felt helpless.

Alice pulled my arm around her shoulder and clasped the other tightly. She tugged me to my feet, grunting under my weight as I toppled over. "C'mon, Jasper. C'mon!" She huffed. I felt guilty and tried to apologize. The words were more garbled than I thought possible; I hissed in a breath and fought the window fog that was edging in around me. Together, she and I managed to drag my treacherous body into the bathroom. It really did feel ridiculously like my childhood.

I was kneeling in front of the toilet, my elbows resting on the rim of the bowl as I stared into the clear water. I came into awareness of this slowly and froze, but there was no man berating me and I was no longer a small boy. Alice had her hands on my shoulders – I could feel it – and yet some part of me could not shake the past.

_Is my life flashing before my eyes or am I going insane?_

"Gone fishing," I croaked without a laugh. My body started to slump backward, but Alice pushed me up again. I felt motion sick.

"Jazz, _please_," she said. "I don't think I can make you." Though her voice was steady her hands shook. She was afraid because she could not bring herself to gag me. She thought I was dying. Who knew – maybe I was. _You dumb shit. Why do you think _he_ made you throw it all up that day?_

My memories resurfaced, managing to physically sicken me to the point of nausea; it had been a long time coming. I shook my head and grunted, trying to refuse, but nature and disgust have a way of wearing you down. My body rippled in a painful spasm and clung to the bowl as I vomited everything up. A loud retching sound came from deep within my gut and roared out through my mouth; it became a reflex, uncontrollable, and I threw up long after the motions brought only dry heaves.

A groan escaped my lips. I rested my chin against the cold rim of the toilet and wondered how long it had been since I'd last courted the Porcelain Princess. My limbs were shaky and my shirt drenched with sweat. Each thin, shaking breath that I took brought the foul reek of vomit and I gagged again.

"Is he done yet?" The voice was anxious. I looked over and saw Alice sitting on our bathroom counter, her arms curled around her knees. Her face had a green tinge to it.

"Almost." Edward's voice was quiet and pained, and I recognized immediately that it had been him holding me up this whole time. "Maybe we should get Carlisle."

I shook my head feebly and muttered, "_No_. Fuck that." The small motion upset my stomach again. This time it felt like a hiccup, a short heave of the muscles, and the bile came softly. I thought I saw pink in it for a moment, but then I pushed myself away and tried to stand. I did not want to think about blood.

Edward was holding me back and telling me to sit down. He was right – I could tell this because he was actually holding me up – but I pushed him away. I spat out that I did not need or want help when in reality I could not even remember what had started this or when it had begun. It might have been twenty minutes ago or seven hours for all I knew. I was scared. My thoughts jumbled together, my eyes dimmed, my body lurched, and I fell in a heap on the floor.

_Toys in the attic – he is crazy._

A blinding white light that split my head apart.

_Shut up!_

It hurt.

"Jasper? _Jasper?_"

Alice.

Her voice was too distant.

"Oh, fuck."

Edward.

A flutter of light. Shades of red. Darkness.

"Alice, get a –"

Silence.

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**I hope you enjoyed the small glimpse into his past; I don't dig flashbacks very often, so this is as close as you get for now. In case you haven't noticed, Jazz doesn't respond well to feeling emotions.**

**The next chapter will be relatively short. I need some time off to get my head together... so don't forget to vote for the awards, whomever you may vote for!**

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	17. Hold On Hold it together Hold it In

17.

I woke in the hospital. My sight was too blurred to be sure and the heaviness in my limbs suggested death, but the bright light shining directly into my eyes reassured me. I was alive. That was a relief.

I blinked the blink of someone recovering from a crushing bout of dizziness and sat up. My head throbbed, forcing me back to the pillow. I groaned. There was a small gasp from across the room; I heard the tapping of heels and then Alice's hands around mine.

"Thank God you're awake!"

My brain felt like it had taken several blows from a sledgehammer. "What happened?" It seemed like the only reasonable question to be asking; my memory was an empty slate and the last thing I remembered was laughing in the backseat of Edward's car after school. Alice had been with me. I think I had been happy. _What happened?_

Alice rummaged through her purse and pulled out her compact. She flipped it open and held it so I could see my reflection. I could only gape. One eye was surrounded by swollen purple flesh; a cut ran from my cheek bone into my hair and disappeared. Alice took one my hand and guided it along my scalp until I felt the stitches close to the base of my skull. I winced at the touch and dropped my hand.

"Oh."

Her face was contorted with worry. "You fell – hit your face against the tub, cracked your head off the floor."

_I did?_ "Oh."

"The doctor wants to speak with you once you get dressed. I brought you a change of clothes."

_Dressed? _I looked down and saw the dressing gown. "Okay," I said – was all I could think of to say in this dumbfounded state.

She handed me an old pair of jeans, originally of dark wash but since faded, and I slid them on cautiously. Alice held me by my shoulder to balance until I buttoned the jeans and sat back. My head was swimming; I felt like falling or getting sick or some raunchy combination of the two. When Alice held out a shirt for me, the small motion was enough to send me reeling. I closed my eyes and took in two deep breaths before the dizziness abated enough for me to put the shirt on.

"Can I go home?" I said, wanting to pinch the bridge of my nose but knowing it was too sensitive. "I just want to go to bed."

"After you talk to the doctor," Alice said. She rubbed her hands together and went to the door.

_Right. I forgot._ I held a hand miserably to my forehead and waited.

It did not take long; she had been waiting for me. The woman came in, extended her warm hand to me, and pulled up a chair. The noise of this was a grinding pain in my ears. I read her name tag - Elizabeth Stanley, M.D. – and then glanced at the chart she had in her lap.

"Hello Jasper, how are you feeling?" She smiled.

I figured it out then. The comforting greeting and casual smile gave her away. The knowledge made me laugh, though it hurt to do so. Undoubtedly it was an odd reaction, but I had always been a Maverick.

"Can I just leave now? There is no way I'm talking to a psychologist," I said when the laughter finally subsided, leaving me cold and miserable inside.

"Actually, I had a few questions for you before you are released," she said and opened my file.

_The kiss of death! Shit._ "Speak if you must," I muttered and sat back, determined to be nonchalant about this whole affair.

"I'll say it frankly, Jasper: the circumstances surrounding your admittance into the hospital are curious at best. How did this happen?"

"I fell in the bathroom," I replied evenly. "Just mopped the floor and wasn't watching my step."

"Mhmm." I watched as she jotted a note down in the file. The motion made me feel queasy. "And if I ordered a blood test, what would come up in the results?"

My eyes narrowed dangerously. "Nothing – my prescription was up weeks ago."

"So if one were to show over one thousand milligrams of your prescription – enough to severely incapacitate if not kill?"

I felt my jaw click; my patience was wearing away. "I'd say that it's a fucking lie. My prescription was up weeks ago, like I said."

"How did you get those injuries, Jasper?"

"Fell in the bathroom," I snapped. "Are we done yet?"

Without waiting for her consent, I hopped up from the bed. Only a few paces into my storm-out, I stumbled and had to grab for the wall. Dr. Stanley grabbed my arm to support me, but I shook her off just as I had shaken of Edward before. _How long before? What time is it?_ I made it a few more steps before sitting down again, defeated by the strength of my dizziness, the overwhelming nausea, and the cold sweat that was beginning to creep up on me.

I held a fist over my mouth and closed my eyes. She took the opportunity to speak as she unwrapped a fresh bed pan and handed it to me. I groaned, a deep guttural sound, as she spoke.

"I went over your records briefly," she said, a hand on mine in that silkily false consolatory voice. "You were diagnosed at _thirteen_, Jasper. B.P.D. is nothing to be ashamed of – it's not a weakness –"

"Did I say it was?" I growled, though the motion of staring her down brought my sickness back to the forefront and made me hate her that much more. "I've been fine ever since then," I added, and the thought of what I had done to remain so was painfully fresh in my mind now that I was out of stock.

"Did you do this on purpose?" she pressed.

"You can't hold me here for slipping," I said. This time I stared at her evenly. "I'm leaving, going home, going to bed." I heaved myself to my feet and gathered my balance.

"You should remain awake until the nausea passes, at least."

"Fuck it; I'm taking my chances," I set the pan down and walked for the door.

She was persistent. As I opened the door she slid her card into my hand. "In case you reconsider things," she said.

I ripped the card in half and shook my head. "Do I _look_ like I need or want your help, Mrs. Stanley?" She did not reply. I turned to for Alice and found her next to a wheelchair; she motioned me in and I sat compliantly, willingly, dizzily.

"I took care of your papers for you," Alice said as she wheeled toward the door, "and Edward is waiting for us."

"He is?"

"He drove you here, remember?"

"No."

"I don't think you were really conscious anyway – just mumbling."

Something about the way she said those words made me shudder. I hunched down in my seat and waited as my brother's car pulled to a stop. He came around to the passenger's side and opened the door so Alice and I could slide in. I recognized vague discomfort in his eyes as he looked after me; abruptly he stood and shut the door, walking back to his seat and restarting the car. I understood then that the wall between us had been fortified, and it would be of no use to explain what had really happened while he was still angry.

All I could do was hold in a groan, hold on, and try to hold myself together. The utter weariness in my body was something that said I should be dead, and part of me agreed wholeheartedly with this diagnosis, but the other half wanted to sleep. Sleep. Bed. Rest. Dream. Forget. Right now I was too tired to struggle with the thoughts that were on the edge of my mind, but I knew that when I woke from the vivid, hallucination-filled stupor that I called sleep my ability to do _stop_ thinking would disappear. I was tired – exhausted – and as of yet unwilling to face this facts. Best not to think about things like that.

_Best not to think at all._

Alice nudged me out of my reverie. We were in the garage; Edward was already out of the car and moving toward the house. I blinked widely and took a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" She put a hand over mine and did not wince as I did at the contact of clammy skin and warm flesh.

"I will be in a minute," I said, determined. I followed her from the backseat and nearly fell into her as I stumbled over old engine parts from a Saab that Rosalie had begun to rebuild some time ago. Curses streamed from my mouth; I was angry but Alice giggled at the creativity in my vocabulary. Something about "donkey horse-shit piss" and "fucking ass-machine fairy _fuck_" was funny to her. Usually it would humor me as well, but today my mood only worsened. I shoved my way around her and stormed into the house, wishing that I would find Esme in the kitchen.

It is not fair to call Esme a stay at home mom because she does so much more than stereotypically sitting around the house. I glanced at the grandfather clock on the foyer and saw that it as mid-morning; she would be in town at the DSS building tutoring and supporting lonely kids in need. She literally saved lives by doing this, but she never noticed how people felt more inclined to _live_ after being in her presence. She could rescue anyone from the depths of despair simply by smiling.

I wanted that comfort – that cheerful presence – but the barren kitchen smelled only of stale breakfast foods. I gagged, barely made it to the powder room before the nausea which I had been holding in won me over. I was violently ill, the feeling only made worse by the deep stains of red that came with it; I had done serious damage to _something_ internal last night. The smell choked me. I sat against the wall and tried to heave breaths as my eyes spun and my heart began to palpitate.

_Best not to think of it_. But who was that woman to suggest she knew anything about me? Jaw set, I pushed myself to my feet and staggered up the stairs to my room. For a moment I believed that I was going to hurt something – someone. Myself. Rage at the woman's insolent manner bruised my ego and my sense of secrecy; I had thought myself better than to be caught by Jessica Stanley's mother of all people. The fact was disheartening.

The room was clean and my bed had been made. I drew back the covers and slid under the sheets with a moan. My heart clenched and sped; I curled into a ball and hugged my pillow, glad the light coming through the curtains was dim.

"Jazz, I –"

"Alice?" She paused before answering my interruption. "Can you find me a bucket? Please."

She sighed, disappeared, and I heard the sound of tumbling cleaning products before she brought back a sturdy bucket. She set it down with a thud and crossed her arms as I thanked her.

"I got you your pills and a glass of water." She pointed at my bedside table.

I hadn't noticed. It angered me that the first thing I had to notice as I reached out for them was that – far from being "pills" she had given me "a pill." I could not even be grateful that she was trying to help.

"It's the amount on your prescription!" she said in self defense. While hurt that she was so defensive about it, I also knew that she had foreseen my reaction before I could.  
"That isn't going to do shit, Alice. It won't even kick the stomach ache – I need at least four."

"Jasper…"

"Alice!" I snapped. _Fuck_. "I'm fucking serious! Do you want me dead?"

"And I'm trying to help," she cried. Actual tears were gathering in her eyes. I felt like an ass.

"Fine, alright?" I dropped the pill into my mouth and swallowed. "Happy now?"

She narrowed her eyes. The slight shake of her head told me that I had a while before she would be happy with me.

"I'm sorry." It was a desperate and much-too-late attempt to right whatever I had done. "Look I'm – in a bad mood and it's not your fault and… _fuck! _Leave me alone." I pounded my fist against the wall in irritation. The words were on the edge of my vocabulary; I knew what I wanted to say but not how to say it. "I would appreciate it if you left me alone right now. I just want to sleep – just wanna sleep."

Alice nodded silently and backed out of my room, making sure to shut the door after her. Her and Edward spoke briefly and then his car pulled out of the driveway; they had gone back to school. They had left me – she had left me – with my pain and my anger and my _goddamn_ irritability that I could not control. She had left me _because_ of that; she did not like the true Jasper Hale, the unpredictable personality I had been sheltering since before we met.

Suddenly I wanted very much to sleep. And I wanted very much to never have to bother with waking up again. I curled back into my little ball and sobbed. The tears came too easily – they always did when my head was confused about rights and wrongs and shades of gray. I beat myself but with tired and weak motions that did not bruise, though I very much wanted them to be a representation of my discolored and damaged mind. _Who was _she _to talk to me_? Eventually the tears did subside and my mind quieted enough that I slipped away.

And I did not wake up for nineteen hours.

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**Okay, so it was a long chapter without me adding this soon-to-be-long note at the end. I appreciate everybody's reviews/Alerts/Favslast week and I apologize for not answering any of them - none at all - because I was in a wicked bender of a mood. No elaborations on my end; suffice it to say some of the *ahem* characteristics in this story are brought from personal experience. Several people liked the dip into Jasper's past (not a kiddie pool dip at all as we may find out in the future), but today dealt pretty much with the repercussions for naught actions. A couple revelations *gasp* slipped in; I hope you enjoyed them. In three hours I will be raging across the state toward my Sister's house (7 hour drive) so hopefully my adventure-mania will be appeased. =D**


	18. Baby Steps

**A/N. Voting is open for the Indie Awards. When you finish this chapter, go to my profile for a link to vote for this story as "Best Secondary Storyline" and "Best Non-ExB Story" before looking out for other awesome stories. **

18.

My muscles and joints ached, but when I finally opened my eyes I felt awake. I stretched out, pulled my blankets back around me, and rolled onto my side. The clock said "Five" so it was evening; I did not relish the thought of dinner but, nevertheless, I would need to get out of bed. If the stench of my BO had not been enough, I think the pressure on my bladder would have done the trick.

After relieving myself and taking a thorough shower (a complicated process since I was one-handed and unable to touch my head without cringing) I dressed and pulled on a now-oversized hood zip. I fumbled with the shoe laces before admitting failure and tucking them, unlaced, under my heels.

When I returned to my room I saw the three pills. There was a note that I paused to read:

_Alice says that it's enough for the school day. I say don't fuck this up for yourself – Edward_

before taking all three. I reread the note, threw it in my waste basket, and tromped downstairs into the surprisingly empty kitchen. Around dinner-time it was bustling with people making food, setting the table, and pouring ice water. Only Esme was here now, and I found that disconcerting.

"What time is it?" I said, resisting the urge to rub my bruised eyes as I checked the wall clock. "Where is everyone?" Perhaps they had gone – simply left; a paralyzing fear slapped me at the thought of their reaction to my behavior. _Shit, shit, damn, fuck! _My racing thoughts were quickly assuaged as Esme pulled me into a close embrace because, even though I was so much taller than her, she had an uncanny way of making me feel like a comforted child.

"It's still too early for Alice to be fully dressed, Edward is on a jog, and Carlisle had to work a double shift last night," she told me. "You must be hungry; I felt so bad leaving you asleep yesterday, but Edward said I should let you rest – I was just making tea."

I nodded. "Sounds good." I hopped onto my personal counter space and propped my feet onto the cabinet handles. Esme handed me a mug of English Breakfast and absently swatted my feet down. I put them back up once she looked away and cleared my throat.

"Um, Esme?" I played uneasily with the edge of my steaming mug. "Do they hate me now, you think?"

"Oh, honey," she murmured and, leaning up, pulled me into a hug. "No one hates you. _No one._ And as for me: even if I don't like what you do, I will _always_ be here for you."

"But Alice and Edward?" I tried to look casual but the effort was painful.

"They're just angry right now."

"Because of me?"

Esme's eyes flashed as she peered up at me. "Jasper Cullen-Hale," she said, "you are a _good_ person. People may occasionally do bad things –"

"But –" her upheld hand stopped my argument.

"-They may do bad things and angry and rude things, but very few people in this world are wholly bad. What makes us angry is our own – to put the blame on others is wrong. Do you understand?"

I nodded, tears shining in my eyes. I did not deserve her as a mother. "Thank you, Esme." _Thank you._

I buried my face against her shoulder and wrapped my arms around her. My body shook and the tears began to run. It made me feel pathetic, and I would never consider letting go around anyone else, but Esme would never judge me.

In time I pulled away and gathered some self control. Esme handed me a tissue to dry my eyes and allowed me space. I slid down, plastered a tentative smile onto my face, and moved to the table as Alice came into the kitchen.

She was dressed with an eye for detail. The longer strands of her razor-cut hair were pulled back into a short pony tail, the rest spiked softly around her face – which I could not bring myself to study. My gaze flitted down her lavender camisole and gray corduroy trousers to the ballet flats on her feet. When she glanced my way, I watched my mug of tea intently; the tension between us was like quarrelling lovers: intense and way too awkward to be rectified in public.

Breakfast was quiet. I sat by Esme at the table and kept my eyes downturned. Alice only spoke a few words to Edward, who was now showered and dressed, and neither of them addressed me. I sipped my tea quietly and managed to avoid eye contact. It was painful.

We drove to school. Edward kept the radio off and Alice sat in the passenger's seat. Both were silent, and I kept myself quiet also. The tension was palpable in the air; it did not want to be broken. I was relieved to slide out of the car and light a cigarette once we hit the school parking lot.

I saw Bella in the distance, heading toward a group of girls standing in front of the school. She appeared friendly and accessible when she did not see me looking; she looked friendly now because I was not in her thoughts and she did not like me. She had friends and loved ones; here I was, the loner and outcast, watching in like Jack Skellington in Christmas Town. And then, just like Jack, I was moving before I knew how to stop myself.

Her friends saw me coming first because she had her back to the parking lot. They scattered like will power before the winds of fate, their eyes registering shock as they made room for me to sweep by. Bella registered this change and pivoted, but I had my arm around her waist, guiding her somewhere private. We reached the abandoned walkway between Building Three and the Cafeteria before I released her from my grip.

She stumbled, caught herself, and whirled, her mouth open to speak, but she stopped short once she saw it was me. She reeled visibly before catching herself and instead putting a hand over her slacked jaw.

"Holy Christ," she spluttered, "are you okay?"

"Yeah- well, no," I admitted, "but that's not the real reason I'm accosting you like this." I scratched my scalp while thinking of exactly how to word the mental overload I was about to throw her way. She waited.

"Okay, so… so what you said this Wednesday wasn't true, alright? You seemed so mad at me already that I was just keeping my distance, you know, because I'm aware that I come off as an extremely bad person. And, and I tried to ignore you – I'm _still_ trying to ignore you – but these _things_ just interrupted my efforts. I wanted you to know that I would never _ever_ want someone else's death on my conscious, even if they made my head spin like you do. You make me… I don't know… want to be good, I suppose, and that is just one leap from black to white with no gray in between. It's difficult.

"To say the least," Bella murmured. Her hand reached up hesitantly and touched the mottled skin of my face; she apologized when I winced and withdrew her gentle touch. "I have to ask. Did you – is this because of _me_ in any way?"

I laughed, though it hurt my head to do so. "Don't flatter yourself, Swan."

She looked more puzzled than irritated, as if finally realizing my jagged edge was not meant to offend so much as it was simply part of my personality. "So what happened?"

_Ask Jessica_. "I was mopping the floor and (this is a stupid story, really) I slipped, f – " I paused and deadpanned for a better word than the obscenity I had been about to utter, "smacked my face against the tub as I went down."

"You were gone."

"I had stitches at the hospital," I said proudly and bent so she could see the clever way they had sheared my hair to staunch the bleeding. Her hand flexed to a fist, and it was because she had been about to reach out for me again. I smiled to myself, finally feeling somewhat normal - like I used to feel with Alice.

"You are a Good Person, Bella," I said when I looked back at her, "and I am a Bad Person. We weren't meant to mix and I don't know if we _can_, but I want to be friends – be even with you, at least."

Her face was hard to decipher, but a small pink blush was steadily spreading as I waited for her answer. She looked down, studied the pebble her toe was absently trying to dislodge from the cracked cement, and sighed. The blush was flaming.

"I… I want to be friends, too," she muttered finally. "But you have to actually talk to me if we are friends, okay?"

I grinned. _I can dig that_. "I will talk you to insanity if you want; I can chat all day to be friends with you."

"Good," she said as we walked back to the outside world much slower than we had been pulled into this crumbling palace of concrete. She smiled genuinely and I allowed myself to relax, almost smiling myself. We were friends and, though we weren't "actually talking" like she wanted, it was a peaceful silence. That peace extended to my mind and I began to smile.

* * *

**Small announcement. You just witnessed J/B step _forward_. Go ahead and enjoy before things get complicated.  
Also, the next chapter is getting to be long. What say you guys to a 3k+ chapter - because it's looking that way... by the way, I _will_ be giving out a small snippet of the next chapter to reviewers. Just in case you were curious.  
AND, coming soon: "This Infatuation" - written in 3rd person, this is going to be an account of the current story from Bella's perspective. I thought it was important for the story, but it will take some time to write.**

**Enjoy the revelations and don't forget to vote!**


	19. A Slippery Slope

19.

Lunch. It was the most awkward of my periods today because Alice and Edward were still ignoring me, but I had been looking forward to it with a perverse eagerness that bordered on masochism. I could not talk to Bella, surrounded by her friends, even if I wanted to; Mike and Eric were guarding her as if I were some serial rapist who was going to harm her if they stepped away for even a second. It was equally impossible to speak with speak with either Edward or Alice. I went through the effort of holding Alice's tray for her and smiling but did so with the knowledge that my energy was being wasted; whatever I had said, and it had to have been bad, had made her stop caring about me.

I could not decide whether to be angry at Alice for hating me, at myself for making her abandon me, or at Bella for making me make her abandon me. I had never thought the day could come that Alice, my one sure thing in this life, would find my presence unwanted. That day _had_ come, though, and I now sat, folded into a miserable ball and detached from her like an amputated limb.

The bell rang and I straightened from my curled position to watch an opening appear momentarily around Bella. I was by her side in an instant. She started and dropped the books in her hands but laughed with a hand over her heart when she realized it was me.

"You scared me to death!" she exclaimed as I crouched low and picked up her scattered belongings. We both scanned the room searching for her escorts, but they had abandoned her at my appearance, and then she continued in a conspiratorial tone. "I thought you were _Mike_."

I laughed and shook my head as we walked. "No, it's just me making a considerable effort to be nice."

"Well, thanks," she said after a pause. "You know, I can carry my books now."

I had forgotten I was holding them. _Oh._ "I'm sorry. Is it weird that I'm holding them?" I handed them out to her and she took them slowly.

"Weird? It's, um, what boyfriends do." She looked away and blushed furiously.

I smiled. "So it's definitely weird. I get it." Except it did not _feel_ weird and I did not mind being seen carrying her books – the insinuation that came with it would not faze me. _But it would faze her._

We chatted the rest of the way to class, and right now it was easy to laugh about her sardonic observations of Forks life and the people here. Even though our conversation lulled before the doors of the room, we sat down at our desk as a team. I noticed that now we sat somewhat closer together, more like a scheming duo than the enemies we had once pretended to be.

And that is when the day became a decidedly _bad_ day. Mr. Banner began to pass out little kits and I knew at once what they contained. My body stiffened. Bella was curiously opening her kit; I left mine untouched and raised my hand. When he finally acknowledged that he saw me, I stood and came to his desk.

"What can I do for you?"

"I'm not taking your test." _Not without free will – you can't force me to._

He seemed not to comprehend. "Excuse me?"

My voice was tight, the sound forced through gritted teeth. "I know my blood type. AB Positive."

Mr. Banner, probably ecstatic that, though I had ditched this day of class as a Junior, I was now repaid by coming in unawares, directed me back to my seat with a curt word. I cursed under my breath and sat down heavily on the stool. Bella shot me a questioning glance but quickly paled when the bastard at the front of the room began to speak.

Rage was lapping against the fear that had taken a hold of me; for a moment I forgot the present – wanted to reach out and snap _his _neck for making me like this. I left the packet unopened as the teacher began to direct his students on how to impale themselves. Bella looked sick at the thought of this, but I clenched my fists and tried not to bolt. I tried to breathe but couldn't – the shaking which had been present in my hands all day now took over my entire body to the point of paralysis. I was stiff, immobile, and frozen, but when he stabbed Mike Newton with the lancet my body jolted.

I was unaware of Bella until Mr. Banner asked if she was feeling alright. She was lying with her face pressed to the cold countertop. Even with the veil of hair covering her face, I could tell that her eyes were closed and she was furiously concentrating on breathing. Hesitantly, I pulled back a few tresses of her hair so I could see better; she was a pallid blend of green and gray and I quickly looked up to Mr. Banner.

"Can I take her to the nurse?" I asked. "Please?"

He nodded reluctantly, frustrated to have me out of his maniacal grip, and I quickly guided Bella to the door as fast as our wobbly legs would allow. Once in the hall, I pulled her into my arms and began to walk slowly, trying to make myself breathe. _There's no trouble anymore, _I told myself but then Bella wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and whimpered. At any other time it might be welcomed – enjoyed – but right now it simply trapped the breath lower in my throat.

Nevertheless, I made it halfway to the office before my knees and will buckled. I sank slowly, like a great freighter on the seas, and let Bella know that I needed to sit down for a second. She seemed thankful enough to have her body pressed against the cool cement, though her head still rested in my lap and she clung to me like driftwood, and I was too dizzy now to think. I groaned myself and nearly lost my stomach.

"Bella? Jasper?"

I recognized the voice, but it was impossible. _Oh, God damn it all_. Why must he see us – me – now?

"Is she alright?" He approached and knelt by her side. She moaned and turned away, too pale to blush but definitely put out by his appearance. I shrugged and felt my lips turn a funky shade of purple. My eyes were half-closed and my lungs screaming, but that involuntary gasp of air was still being choked.

Edward noticed. "I'll take her to the nurse," he suggested, hoisting her up. She groaned loudly in protest. Ignoring this ominous sign, Edward pushed my head between my knees and gave me an enormous thump on the back. Then he gave me another – and another after that – until I gasped a whistling breath.

"Biology?"

"Needles," I gasped shakily without opening my eyes. The world was still spinning.

"I'm so sorry I forgot," he replied. _Yeah right_. "I'll be back in a minute."

A minute… two minutes… God knows how long really passed while I regained equilibrium and before I was able to rein in my thoughts. I heard their voices coming close but did not open my eyes; that was still not a good idea. They sounded like close friends, which made me realize how truly absurd my wishes for friendship had been; I would never have something so elemental as harmonizing voices or easy banter. Their voices… it was a connection like Carlisle and Esme's, like Rosalie and Emmett's… like my relationship with heroin.

A shiver crept up my spine. The urge was sudden and very real; I fumbled in my pocket for my cigarettes, sure that if I did not appease this craving in some way I would explode. Acrid smoke stormed up my nasal passages as I lit the thing. I nearly gagged, whether from the smoke itself or want or the remnants of fear I could not be certain, but then pushed everything from my mind but the buzz I wanted to feel. _Maybe if I imagine it, it can be real._ I doubted my hopeful thought; the last month of pill-induced daze already felt like placebos and this… this felt like root beer when I wanted the real thing – it was a cheap imitation.

"Jasper?" It was Bella's voice. I raised my eyes to her face and managed a smile; though she looked pale, she was regaining color.

"Yeah," I replied. Happily, my voice sounded firm and she would not notice that I had almost passed out with her. I inhaled deeply but made no attempt to stand yet.

"I'm going home for the day," she said, "but I don't think I can drive." A pause in which I allowed my heart to guess what could come next. I was wrong. "Edward said he'd drive me home, but I was hoping you could drive my truck?"

She phrased is as a question in case I refused. And I might have refused. I wanted to, for sure, but instead I wobbled to my feet and finished my cigarette. "Keys?" I held out a hand expectantly; she paused.

"Are you sure?" If ever she would bite a lip, surely it would be now. But she didn't – she caught herself from this habit and gulped instead.

I smiled, knowing that she was giving me the out I wanted. I knew, however, that Edward recognized her wording as well. So I laughed and said, "I wasn't going back to class anyway. Don't sweat it."

This seemed to convince her because she handed over her keychain. I noticed the simplicity of it, a single charm made of a small bookmark that read on one side: _"The Advantage of Emotions is that they Lead us Astray."_ On the other side, in great gold lettering against a green background, were written the words "_Wilde Child_."

I followed Edward's car with little trouble except for the first wave of strawberry hitting me when I opened the driver's side door; it was a beautiful scent like a summer wine, but its association was too powerful to overcome. Hopefully, though, no one saw me stagger back and grip the wheel well as I vomited up the meager contents of my stomach. After that I drove with the radio off and the windows open to the swollen sky, hoping in some way that doing this would make my cold sweat and shivering stop. It didn't and when I parked her giant truck in the drive, I almost felt nauseated again.

Edward murmured a quiet goodbye into Bella's ear while I simply tossed her the keys and got into his car. As I often did lately, I felt utterly drained and in no mood to talk. Anything I said would mar the beautiful friendship that could be forming. Anything I did would ruin her smile. I what I wanted second-most right now was to be walking in a silent forest, drowning in a luminescent green and not feeling the cold touch of memory on my skin. It was a place where I could _let_ thoughts spin out of control and, especially after all the thoughts I had faced today, I needed that refuge.

I barely noticed when Edward started the car. I was in a bad mood. My focus was on the dashboard and the small shoeprints there – too tiny to be mine and I knew for sure that Alice never slouched. All I could think was that Edward had let Bella Swan sully his car's good name and impeccable interior. I thought of the tall tree I could climb easily enough; perhaps I could stay up there until the peace returned… until I had shut myself up, but I would have to keep a thread of sanity. I could hole myself up in the music room but –no, I no longer played and probably could not any more.

We tromped up the stairs to the kitchen and separated. I poured a large glass of water and gargled before drinking it down, wanting something in my stomach more than bile and nausea. Sometimes in the afternoon a stray beam of light would shine through the window and illuminate the room; once it had reflected brightly on the soapy dishwater, once it had created a rainbow effect against the crystal figurines Esme kept on the sill, and once it had come in straight enough for us to watch the dust float around with perfect ease. Now that light seemed like a figment of my mind; I was sure the world would never look so beautiful again.

Sometimes I was aware that my mood was changing. In fact, I found myself watching it do so absently, like a passerby sees a car crash approaching but is powerless to stop it. _Watch out for that last step, stranger! It's a doozy!_ It made me introspective – sucked me into my own head to such a point that I forget where I really am. I watched in a somber silence as my mood turned in a circle and slid backwards on the steep mountain of progress. I felt it falling further as I stood alone by the kitchen window. This sinking feeling was like misery mixed with confusion and done up with little bows of false hope. It felt like a breaking point.

I blinked and the sky had darkened. I flinched back, the glass slipping from my hand, and managed to kick out my foot to catch it. _Lucky._ The thing ramped off my foot and skidded across the kitchen tiles; I left it there and looked to the wall clock.

_4 PM._

School would be out and halfway home by now. Alice, I supposed, would have caught a ride with Esme, who was definitely on her drive back. Carlisle was still sleeping upstairs, but for how long that luck could hold I was unsure; he had always been a light sleeper. The hospital was not the best secret keeper and, as soon as he woke, there would be a violent confrontation.

My nerves crackled like whips. My body was tense with anticipation. If I stayed still, this feeling would conjure memories and those memories… well, they would eat me alive. _Best to keep moving_.

I crept to the music room, long since evacuated by Edward. Baroque music poured from his upstairs bedroom as I slipped through the door and absently ran my fingers over his piano. The ebony keys resounded softly as I touched them reverently, but this instrument was not for me. Mine was encased in the corner; the buckles unclasped easily beneath my flying fingers and I removed the Gibson quickly, wanting to touch it before I could stop myself. I did not play anymore – had, in fact, forbidden myself from it – but my hands could tune it without looking. A few short strums and it was ready. I plucked a note and let it ring out.

About to change frets, I paused. _You can't do this, Jazz_. I nodded to the voice and replaced the instrument slowly because I did not play music and I could not play well when I tried. I made punishably loud racket. You couldn't call that music.

My mood worsened. Smiling was impossible and my energy made me jittery and incapable of slow thinking. I wandered and looked and rifled through desk drawers, finding little and hoping for nothing, until I became able to sit still without my thoughts instantly turning against me. For maybe five minutes I could sit quietly with only the tapping of my heel to keep me company before the internal voice started reminding me.

I did not want to remember. _Anything._

I stalked to the kitchen and scooped the glass from the floor. Esme was now in the room. She watched me from the corner of her eye as I poured more water into it and sipped. She was nervous but saying nothing.

"Carlisle?" I said as I dropped the glass into the sink. It cracked in two but I ignored it again.

Esme pointed to the study. A frown had formed on her sweet face that did not look natural, and that made me uneasy. She was worried, and he was pissed. I nodded curtly and went to him. _Time to get this over with_. I timed out how the evening would play even as I knocked on his door. It was going to be bad.

"Come in."

I did and he wasted no time with pretense.

"You're in some trouble."

I shrugged. That much I'd already known and now I only felt subtle flares of anger at his tone. I pushed them back – it was too soon for a telling slip – but _how dare he be so quiet? _I had wronged him badly; I was a bastard, and _he was calm?_

"Do you want a chance to explain yourself?"

Anger, rage, hatred flickered before my eyes. I was confused as to whom they were directed. "No," I said. I interlocked my fingers and clenched them together. There was no reason to be angry at anyone except myself; I had, after all, started the whole thing. _But how could he be so calm?_

"Then let me start," he said, counting out my offenses with his fingers. "You stole a prescription pad from the hospital, you forged my signature, you used _my_ _name_ to get a hold of controlled substance, and then you nearly killed yourself with them.

"What you did was _illegal_. You could be arrested. _I_ could be arrested. My license could be revoked. I could be put in prison and the entire future of this family put at stake. Do you understand?"

There was no reason to respond. Of _course_ I understood. I had done a bad thing for a bad reason and with a bad outcome. Nothing I had done was justifiable to people living outside my head; I was a bad person. I had done this and now his rubbing it in was like a slap in the face. A growl grew and stuck in my throat.

"I don't want to say this because I love you," Carlisle said. I snorted and fixed him with a glare, daring him to continue. "But if I ever catch you doing this – or any kind of drugs again – I will have you arrested. You will not be welcome in my home anymore. Don't make me do it. I don't want to see you hurt yourself anymore."

_Then don't look._

"What was that?"

My eyes widened momentarily. I hadn't meant to speak aloud. "I said _then don't look_. As in leave me the fuck alone. As in stop trying to play the righteous parent. You aren't my fucking father!"

"No, I'm not," he said, "but would you really want me to be?"

I was in his face in an instant. The tendons in my neck strained as I shouted. "You – You had goddamn better leave him the _fuck_ out of this!" Ray wasn't my dad anymore than Carlisle. My dad was dead; these two would never leave me in peace.

"You need to calm down." He was using his doctor voice on me.

"Don't tell me what to do!" I screamed in his face, clenching my fists where I stood. Carlisle had studied martial arts. He could twist me around and re-break my arm before I landed a punch.

"Leave this room. Go have a cigarette, go count to ten, but don't come back until you can speak to me." His eyes were cold.

"I'm _going_ to leave," I threatened. My hands came up and clung to my tangled hair, and I stormed, screaming, out of his office for the front door. "I'm fucking done with all of you – and _you_. _Especially_ you, you fucking self-righteous bastard!"

Edward and Alice were at the top landing. Carlisle was following me down the hallway toward the door. Esme was only steps behind him, pleading with me to stop. I glared at every one of them. "And I am _never_ coming back to this prison – move on with your lives because I'm fucking _done._" They simply stared with wide eyes and slacked jaws. Even I did not fully understand what was happening.

I let out a final growling scream and strode out into the rain, shedding conscious thought as I went.

* * *

**E/N: so, without the note here this chapter was 3,500 words long, which is pretty long for me. Thoughts on the fight? Thoughts on Bella? I will reward the people who understood Bella's keychain because I wish it was real. Leave me a review to say you loved/hated/were disgusted by/are angry at...**

**The next chapter will not be for some time. I know what happens; I haven't written it. Time for me to take a sebatical from _this_ story while I catch up in the other. I want to publish the first three chapters of it in a short time period so I need to catch up. I figured out that it is imperative for My Intoxication because it fills in holes that Jasper won't talk about, and I don't like jumping POVs.**


	20. Of Dogs and Leeches

**A.N. Long delay, I know. It took me a while to write this. "This Intoxication" is already up so go read the first three chapters if you have not already done so. Just.. Wait until finishing _this_ chapter first. Lol.**

Intox 20.

The sky was dark and ominous, almost surely steeped with massive thunderheads. The black skies forbid such assurance and the rain pelted down in sheets to heavy to see clearly through, but there was comfort in a sure thing. _And why not?_ Sure things were comfortable things and comfort was good – even in a lightning storm.

The rain drops were fat and struck like bullets, exploding upward in intricate patterns that were gone too fast for the human eye to register their presence. The falling water dampened clothes and plastered them to skin, matted hair down against flesh, and overran the stone driveway of the Cullen house with streams and small debris.

On the road, the towering trees bent with the wind that _whooshed_ down from the Heavens. Green leaves were shorn away and whipped down the abandoned lane in small loops as they flew. Despite the tempest, a quick pace against the wind was manageable if one was able to keep low to the ground and away from the snapping branches overhead. These scattered down in little showers, more substantial than the rain and far more dangerous.

The main road, which led in and out of town via Rt 101, provided a momentary halt in progress. Here panic set in, deep and terrifying and primal, and for a moment there was no end to the screaming terror. Directions were bungled and for a moment all seemed lost in one moment of horrific irony. Then the lightning illuminated the breaking skies in the briefest of flickers and the path was righted.

_Onward and upward!_ Laughed a voice to the wind, except the laughter was broken and sounded too hysterical to be genuine; it was a sobbing mockery meant only to take the sting of irony out of the air. It failed.

As the storm moved closer and intensified, the lightning spoke up more often and grew to one flickering wave of hollow light after another. To look at the skies was to be reminded of a film negative; the way black was illuminated lightest and the air grew a hazy blue was surreal enough to run an imagination rampant. When the first wave rolled away, the thunder belched out and shook the ground.

Headlights brilliant enough to pierce the storm appeared on the horizon. _Searchlights_. Desperation surged back to take control and managed, finally, to do so. The gravel roadside crunched and squelched as it turned to mud. Then again, everything in the world changes eventually. _Doesn't it?_

On Rte 101 the road gives way on either side to four foot banks springing with tall grasses. There are natural gullies hidden beneath the lush grasses – hidden because the grass is springy and wild. When the rains fall in torrents, the channels quickly turn to slick mud and run over with dirty water down to the creek which flows at the basins between the road and the forest.

If the occupants of the car driving south on Rte 101 had looked, they would have seen the disturbance in the grasses – faintly large – where the mud thickened and the waters ran. They would have seen the eyes, the face, the mud-streaked skin of a stranger peering up at them with only animal instinct recognizable in those human features.

They would have seen me, but I would not have seen them.

I have lived with myself long enough to feel hate when I get like this. We can all call it a self-preservation mechanism (a term I picked up at age eight from a psychiatrist) but I know what it really is because only I could take a shield and turn it into a sword. What it really is is a mind slip – a fading of conscious thought, whether into red or gray or the shades of heroin, that I usually invoke when about to do something that would repulse even me.

I felt it when I was young and mastered the tool. I called upon it to shield me daily toward the end of true home. I used it to forget that I was broken and abused and about to snap; I used it as an excuse, really, for my actions when I did snap.

_Just as I am using it now, _I can think distantly, _just like with Maria, and just like I will use it again in the gray alleys to find what I need._

My body moves on its own toward the only nearby relief of _need_ that it can sense. Rational thought and control are still far away, but awareness is coming back. I am not sure I want it to. The headlights have not begun to fade before I push myself into the mud and slide down the hill; it is slick and smells like noxious odors that I have actually lived with before. If I had anything left in my stomach but a soured taste, I would have vomited from the stench and the memories.

I slosh through the creek and into the forest as the black skies hollow out again and the air around me tingles with electricity. My feet are running – squelching against sodden oak fern and finding enough ground on the slippery moss to propel me forward headfirst. It is a frantic scramble that must be kept up _for the love of God_ or I will spill into some chunk of limestone and be found with a crushed skull. Maybe I won't be found; maybe my body will rot to bone and the bone crumble into eternity without being noticed. All I can do is hope that is not the case as I grapple with nature.

The rain has not let up by the time I reach what should be a creek birthed from the Hoh River. It has swollen and made the banks slick with mud; I do not stop short fast enough and my body lurches precariously over the swollen flood before toppling downward. A scream is cut short by the rushing water and dangerous debris that my head strikes. For a moment I lose all sense of direction and thrash in the waist-high water as a thick log crushes me into the riverbed. Then the water pulls it downstream and it lifts off me, striking a painful blow to the head as it goes. I struggle through the water, no longer covered in mud but bleeding and dizzy.

It takes me hours to find my destination in the storm and by that time I am both limping and winded, but eventually I hear the howling of kenneled dogs and know that I have arrived. My thoughts are aligned with victory as I creep into the clearing and stalk quickly under the flickering sky toward the animal clinic and its rickety window into the restricted rooms. The only thing preventing me would have been Sam, but even he does not stay this late into the night.

_Thank God._

The lock has been tightened and secured fast to the window since my last break in. I try to jimmy it softly at first, but my body has been patient far too long and wants to wait no longer. My elbow slams into the window and knocks it open, breaking the latch and scattering small parts across the room. There is no time to reflect; I am already halfway through the window, scrambling to right myself before I slip and fall off the counter.

Once crouched on the linoleum floor, I freeze. The lightning trails blue veins across the sky – open, bleeding veins – and I cannot help but cringe as the thunder cracks overhead. The hum of electric machinery falters briefly, which starts me back to action; if there is an alarm, _that_ may have tripped it.

My quest quickly comes to a fruitful end as I open the cabinets and find what I have searched for. Lyrica is not the best, but when I need something I cannot get, this animal medication seems to hold me over. _Until I can get into town._ The bottle is hard to open, especially with my soggy cast – ruined, obviously – and I have to squint to see through the darkness and the blood drying in my eye, but when it does a euphoria rushes over me that I have not felt in too long.

_Hello, my friend_.

It only stares back. Quickly, I stuff a handful of pills into my pants and my pockets for later – or sooner, rather. I tip the contents back and try to swallow the rain of pills but find myself needing water. There is no irony in this – only a cold desperation as I fumble at the faucet with clumsy hands. I am out of control. I know that. I cannot stop it.

Only once I drink them down do I hear the truck approaching. My heart freezes in terror at the soft voices and I know that my raid has ended but am unable to let it go. A few more bottles are emptied into my pockets (I almost rattle). Then I move to the window and look for the intruders.

Outside there is only silence and rain. When the next thunder clap crashes above the building, I make my break and drop from the window –

Except I am pulled down and dashed against the ground. It makes a soft squelching sound. For a moment it does not register that I have not merely fallen but been thrown. My adrenaline shot is delayed momentarily, until the lightning flashes and I see Sam and realize that this pressure I feel in my throat is his hand around my neck. He sees me too and in that moment our mutual hatred boils over.

"_Dog!"_ I spit in his face – literally – and twist out of his grip. He drops back with an exclamation of disgust. I roll to my feet, hands splayed out before me as I slip on the wet grass and mud, and hardly hear his snarl over the thunder in my own head. But I _do_ hear and he has called me a leech – a _fucking _leech.

I turn in time to see his fist coming, but there is no way to block the blow. The impact sends me staggering for balance; I fall into a hard body made of pure muscle, more bulky than Sam's, and rage swallows me as I realize that he might have brought the entirepack for one purpose. As the thick arm wraps around my neck in one terrifying chokehold, I pray for panic to _help _my anger, not counteract it. _Yes, God, give me the Courage and not the Panic._

When I move, it is with a volatile mixture of the two emotions. My hands scrabble at my attacker's arm, but my body twists to the right. One leg curls behind his and forces his knee to bend as I slam my head against his face. Pain erupts that is strong enough to blind me, but even as I curse the stitches we are falling and I can pull myself free.

This time I throw myself over that godless man who tried to kill me, and I kick him while he is down. I kick him until he stays down. Sam, or some other, jumps at me from behind; I swing my casted arm, which, though wet, is still solid enough for damage, and hear a satisfying _thunk!_ that reverberates through my limb. The lightning reveals that this was _not_ Sam, but by then he has jumped me and wrestled me to my knees.

The weight bears down on me and brings me to the ground. I thrash, but there is nothing to do with a knee in the small of your back. I struggle nonetheless, disregarding their hushed voices until the truck starts and I am kicked in the ribs. As I cry out, Sam grabs my head and hits it once off the ground. _To silence me?_ He speaks,

"You are an _animal_. Understand? You are a leech to society and your family and anyone you touch. You feed off blood, misery, and chaos, like a vampire. If you were a dog, we would put you to sleep before you bit someone and infected them with your rabies.

"If you _ever_ show your face _near_ the Reservation again – if you break into my clinic _one more time_ – I will have no problem pretending I couldn't see who I shot at in the dark. Do. You. Understand?"

He twists my arm up higher onto my back and I thrash in pain under him. "Yes," I scream and fight him. "_Fuck_, yes, I understand!" The pain makes me dizzy and when he releases my arm I go limp. I let them hoist me into the bed of Sam's truck. I listen to the odd comments about sending the stray back home, feel the rough jostling of the truck as we maneuver the dirt roads. It would have been too easy for them to just kill me, but I suppose they have some scruples. _They aren't me._

I am thrown out onto the road a quarter mile from town. The truck drives off before I can pick myself off the ground and spit curses in their direction so when I finally do make it to my feet I trudge north on dead feet instead. It is late, with almost everyone in bed, but I finally spot one with a downstairs television still on and an upstairs light burning brightly. There is a shadow in front of the window that gives me hope, despite the police cruiser parked on the driveway.

I approach the shade tree that guards her window, scoop up a handful of pebbles and dirt, aim high, and throw. There is a bright clatter as they hit the window and bounce back down, and the shadow slides open the window and peers down at me.

_"Jasper?"_

* * *

_And as a shameless marketing ploy, I am announcing that I have a Twitter. Follow the new phenomenon with me, get snippets of thought as I write, and generally follow me on my many RL adventures... Fun! The link will be up on my profile shortly._


	21. Twenty Questions No 1

**Yes, I am alive. And I'll explain that delay in a bit. Before that, though: read and enjoy.**

Intox 21

_"Jasper?"_

I stared up at her through the rain, taking in her wet hair and the folds of her baggy t-shirt gathering between her breasts before calling out.

"Who else is stupid enough to trespass here? Can I climb up?"

The television went silent in the room to my left. Quickly, I jumped up and swung into the branches of the tree. I moved into the shadow and scrambled up the thick branches before Chief Swan could see me intruding on his daughter's window. When I looked up again, Bella appeared closer; she was smiling, despite my state of obvious dishevelment.

"I think I'm bleeding," I warned, hesitating on a sturdy branch just below her window. Through the light of her room she could now see me fully – how bad of an unpredictable situation this was – yet she nodded quickly and beckoned me inside. I clawed my way through the open window and dropped ungracefully to the floor.

I managed to gasp in a shallow breath with a wince. When I opened my eyes Bella was standing over me, a hand over her open mouth. I tried to smile but only managed to cough a bloody grin. I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Hey, Bella." My voice was hoarse and almost inaudible.

"Hi, Jasper," she replied in a whisper. Her eyes were still wide and I understood. I looked horrendous. The drifting rain had washed away most of the mud, but it was still obvious in places: my jaw line, the cleft of my collarbone, and the creases of my clothing. The shambles of my cast were a dark, gritty brown. Surely the carpeting beneath me was soaked through with dirty water, too.

Bella let me lie on the floor for a minute while she disappeared from the room. When she came back, she pulled me over to the foot of her bed and sat me down. I watched warily as she grabbed a damp towel and began patting my hair dry.

"Sorry!" she mumbled, her voice still like she was holding her breath, when I flinched.

"Don't worry about it," I said, sounding nasal through the bloody nose, and really meant it. It did not seem possible that I could be here, battered and bruised yet on the verge of purring as Bella Swan dried my hair. I wanted to cry because I was being rewarded for doing a very bad thing; I did not deserve this.

When Bella froze, I immediately heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart jolted and I dropped heavily to the floor, my breath escaping in one great _oomph_! as I jarred my ribcage. Bella threw her towel after me and flopped down, quickly reaching for a thick novel. Her fingers flitted through the pages and found her spot just before the door opened. From my vantage point I could see worn police boots.

_Would he come in any farther?_ If so, I was _dead._

"Will you be okay home alone for the night?"

"Yeah," she answered a little _too_ enthusiastically. "Was that phone call you getting called in?"

"Mhmm. There was a break in down on the Reservation. They don't report these things unless the thief gets away – if I don't hear anything it means they've dealt with it themselves, which I actually think happened before."

"Oh my _gosh_!" came Bella's reverent whisper. She was unused to violence. _Better get out while you still can._

"On top of _that_, I need to be on the lookout for a runaway." He sighed. "In this weather… hopefully that kid is still on a road."

The silence that followed made me think of an incredibly personal moment. It was awkward and my heart sank. I would never have that kind of connection. I was alone.

"I'll leave the coffee pot on for you."

"Thanks, honey."

We waited in agonizing stillness until sure his feet had gone out the front door. Bella immediately swung her hand over the edge of the bed and gave me a hand up. I took up my vacated seat with a miserable moan and Bella knelt behind me.

"So are you an escapee?" she said conversationally.

"No comment." I handed her the towel.

She shrugged and made a few swipes at the dirt on my neck before tossing the towel over her desk chair. I was glad she could let it go.

"What do you say I find you some drier clothes?" she asked brightly, sliding away from me and leaving me cold. I was dubious, yet she dug through her closet until she found a draping football jersey with faded lettering. Recognizing the orange coloring, I chuckled.

"The Longhorns? Really?"

Bella looked suspicious suddenly but tossed the shirt to me anyway. She marched out of the door and came back five minutes later with a pair of blue-green flannel pajama pants. They had to have been Charlie's but, as she told me, it was the best she could do. I was willing to accept the fact as long as the pants were dry.

I almost felt bad washing up in their bathroom. It was painstakingly gender-segregated, as if Bella had purposefully separated the towels and bottles of shampoo. It was made to avoid confusion and conflict, but it could not avoid me. I was Chaos given form.

The faucet poured out chilly water, refusing to warm, but I stripped off my clothes nonetheless and rinsed the clinging muck away. Despite the cold chill in my bones, my body was alive and flushed with heat. I desperately needed cold water.

Unfolding the new bundle of clothing, I surveyed my borrowed attire and hesitated. After a moment of deliberation I decided to _fuck it_ and go Commando. My own clothing was _ruined_ and it was not the time to be prudish. I pulled on the jersey and the pants, tried vainly to force the flannels to be longer – Charlie was much shorter than me – and then knelt on her bathroom floor to pick up all the pills that had scattered across the room.

My tattered cast was still dirty and foul but unchangeable as my insecurities got the best of me. I left it on to hide the track marks – the same ones she had seen while I was in the hospital, so what did it really matter except for pride and pity? But it was time to let that anger go and move on. _Right?_ _Right._

Bella was sitting on her bed when I entered her room again. We were both aware of my awkwardness as I fidgeted. She gave me a nod and smiled expectantly, encouraging me to speak. I had to clear my throat to do so.

"I – uh – left my stuff on the shower rail." I demonstrated the brushing aside of a shower curtain for my benefit, just to be sure of what I was saying.

"Oh! Okay…" Bella bit into the corner of her lip, probably struggling with the situation. "Are you hungry?"

I shook my head immediately. My stomach was in knots, and not just because of the pills I'd taken. A part of me did not trust myself to speak; lashing out was always my first defense when I felt threatened. I suppose other people might call it _vulnerable_.

"Can I get you a drink then?" Her voice sounded a bit tight. I could recognize it as anger. _But toward me already?_

I swallowed hard and had to clear my throat again. "Water."

"Water?" Bella asked. She was serious.

"Only if you don't mind," I said, rushing to fix my mistake. "I mean, you don't have to – I'm not that thirsty anyway –"

"Jasper."

I stopped midsentence. Bella was shaking with silent laughter. She swiped at her moist eyes and laughed out one final breath. "No, no, no… I only thought you might be _sick_ of water. I have juice, milk, coffee, soda, tea – actually, I was already making tea."

She looked at me until I relented. "Tea, then. Whatever you're having."

She promised to be right back and in true Bella fashion, she was. The small tray she carried back had two mugs, loose sugar, honey, and a steaming teapot. I had just sat down at the foot of her bed again and immediately began to stand. She rolled her eyes, which had me resuming my original post, and set the tray down on her desk so heavily that the contents rattled. I watched warily as she poured a mug, fixed it up and handed it to me; surprisingly, it was delicious.

Instead of pouring herself a glass, Bella sat down next to me. She was perfectly still for a moment but eventually sighed and moved to rearrange my hair, which _was_ quite tangled. Still, the shock of it made me choke on my beverage; I had to spit it back into the mug and fan my mouth to cool the scald.

"I was thinking," Bella was saying when I could pay attention again, "that we really don't know anything about each other. So I thought we could play an innocent game of _20 Questions_?"

I shrugged noncommittally so she continued, "and I know you do not like certain topics, Jasper, so there is an extra rule saying that we can skip over those. Just… let me know before you get offended, okay?"

Her words stung because they were not unfounded. I easily became offended, jumped to conclusions, and ended up stringing my friendships (and acquaintanceships) out to dry. I nodded silently into my cup as she moved behind me and renewed her efforts of fussing with my hair. Her thighs pressed warmth into my back and I gulped.

Bella squeezed my shoulder with a laugh. "Don't be nervous. Question One: Where in the South are _you_ from?"

I could recognize that question. I snuck a peek at her and saw her blushing. She mumbled something under her breath that _almost_ sounded like an apology, which convinced me to give her an answer. "Texas: home of the iconic Janis Joplin. I used to live by San Antonio."

Bella paused behind me, her fingers still in my hair. "_You_ like Janis Joplin?"

"That surprises you?"

"Well – I – well . . . yes, it does. Though, since you can speak fluent Latin, oddities like that _shouldn't_."

I chuckled lightly and let out a sigh. After all my life, personal oddities still surprised me at times; it was both amusing and relieving that she did not mind those things _(that she knew)_ about me. I was lucky. I did not deserve this.

"What about you? Bella, where are you from?" I regretted my words immediately when she pulled away and slid off the bed. For a moment my heart froze and I feared that I had offended her – that she was leaving. It did not occur to me that this was _her_ room and that she would not leave me alone in it.

Bella poured herself some tea and sat down backwards at her desk chair. She looked oddly lost for words as I watched her. Yet again I was reminded of my stupidity for showing up here. _Who was I to trespass, to involve her in the fucked up world of Jasper Hale?_ Everything and everyone I had ever touched came to find me revolting. I was toxic enough to kill the strongest love so this friendship had been doomed from our first meeting. The thought was frightening. I _wanted_ this friendship to work.

Bella spoke. "I am from Arizona. There isn't really anything interesting about it for me to say. Home of the Grand Canyon?"

"Or, if you wanted to be bold: Home of Frank Lloyd Wright and Max Ernst."

"Or that," she agreed. It was obvious she had no idea who I was talking about.

I smirked at her and began to offer her the most interesting version – if not the most correct version – of Arizona history that my mind had to offer. Somewhere in between my straight-faced tall tales of Paul Bunyon carving the Grand Canyon and how the explorers had exported petrified wood for gemstones, we ended up sitting against the headboard of Bella's bed. Our game of Twenty Questions had been forgotten.

"So, Bella," I yawned, "what are you up to today?"

We both eyed the clock, which said 3:00 AM, before she groaned and answered. "I'm going to the beach tomorrow with the lunch table gang. There's nothing better than being chatted up by Mike Newton for twelve hours while Jessica shoots daggers at me; I'm going to have to do some heavy social politics."

"Sounds like fun," I said. Her sarcasm never got old.

"Kill me," she murmured.

I chuckled and politely declined.

"Hey, do you want to go? If you go, Mike won't bother me."

"What beach?" I had to stay away from the Reservation.

"La Push."

_Ahhh, fuck. _"Nah, that beach is a bit crowded." I opened my eyes and studied her reaction, but she was quiet. Her eyes were closed.

"You awake?"

"_Mhmm."_

"No you're not; I'm going to take off." I sat up and started to slide from her bed, but Bella grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

"Don't leave. It's still raining." Her eyes were still closed. She was falling asleep and, frankly, so was I. "Besides, you're falling asleep."

_And so I was._ I rested my head on her pillow and let my eyes close, finally admitting to myself that I had come here on purpose. Testing the waters of friendship had been a good idea – though I also had to admit it was proving little. Whatever happened between us, it would be my fault. I had to change that. I had to speak with Carlisle. I had to go home.

I had to sleep.

And so I slept.

* * *

_E/N: So basically one sister was up from Brazil for Musikfest and another came across the state to stay with me for Musikfest. So I partied with one and got pressure from the other about said partying. Apparently "Party" = Evil. Also, busy buying textbooks, crocheting baby blanket (yes, I know it's an "old lady" thing, but I enjoy it despite my obvious youth), and ending the summer with a bang. I'm wiped. _

_So, I hoped you enjoyed the chapter. EVERYONE! Let me know what you thought. REVIEWWWW!!!!_


	22. The White Flag

"_The Diary" by Hollywood Undead is the playlist for this chapter. Highly recommended as it fits 100% perfectly._

_Thank you, Ari._

**Intox 22**

When I woke the sky was gray and overcast and unfamiliar. I considered this for a moment before realizing that I was shivering and the blanket covering me did not smell like me – it smelled like… freesia? I sat up.

The walls of Bella's nondescript room stared back at me. I glanced to the alarm clock, which read 5:27 AM, with a hand to my forehead. Sweat was thick on my skin and there was only one reason for that, really. With a miserable moan I swung off her bed and went to the bathroom.

My hands were trembling as I tried to turn her faucet and I had to take a deep breath to force the feeling back. This was not nerves; it was the Lyrica. Either I had taken too much or I needed more… hopefully the latter because my hand was fumbling in the damp pockets of my jeans for another round. _If I take them, I will feel better._

And I did feel better, relieved. I sat on the edge of her tub and took several deep breaths, holding on with a grip that could choke a rhinoceros. Surely they would leave imprints on the porcelain. Yet I felt much better and eventually the bulging tendons in my body relaxed to the point where I could stand.

When the feeling passed fully I changed back into my own clothing. They felt over starched to the nth degree. Even the shirt was stiff and almost crackly as I pulled it on. Not nearly satisfied but accepting the reality of it, I flexed around a bit before bundling up the clothes I had been wearing and setting them on the sink. There was a sour taste in my mouth, nauseating and unbearable; I snapped open the medicine cabinet for Bella's mouthwash, knowing for a _fact_ that she had some… somewhere.

I swear it was innocent. I really was just looking for the mouthwash. But then I saw the orange bottle and caught the name on the label: _Percocet_. Addressed to Charles Swan, but my hands were already opening the child-proof seal and fishing two out as if the pills were really for me. I only took two so no one would know, and then I returned them to their proper place and rinsed with mouthwash.

Bella was still sleeping when I came back and dropped off the clothes she had let me wear. I dipped over her desk and wrote out a short letter with handwriting that looked like a scary mix between Edwardian script and Charlie Manson's rants. I left it on her pillow – the one I had used – and almost kissed her forehead. Something warned me off, though, and only once I had slipped out the window did I realize what it was.

_Only the virtuous can touch something so pure as a unicorn_. Bella was pure; I was not. Until I was fixed, unblemished, and unbroken there would never be a chance. I could not touch her. I could not tarnish the illusion.

There was time to dwell on this soul crushing fact throughout my walk home. The rain was still coming down, but it was lighter now and manageable. It gave me time to really think of what I was doing – clinging to my nonexistent pride while I drowned with the ship – and for my stoic wall to crumble. Or, rather, I should say that the wall shattered into annihilation and hysterics.

I was frantic by the time I got home. The doors were locked and, though Edward usually went out for a jog rain or shine, the lights were all extinguished. I tried to pull myself into the tree outside my window but fell back as pain ripped through my ribcage; there was an injury there from last night. Instead, I went back to the front door and banged on it, screaming until I thought my voice would die and the door break down.

"Carlisle!" My voice was breaking before the door. Even my breath was becoming rough. "Car-_lisle_! Fucking let me in – I live here, too!"

No one was answering the door. Out of energy, I slumped to the floor and leaned against the wall. The rain, though slanting at an almost forty degree angle, could only just cover me in misting waters. My clothes being already soaked through, I simply sat and waited, hoping that someone _would_ come and let me in – that someone would forgive my transgressions and invite me home.

I do not remember what time it was when the door finally opened, but I do remember the surprised gasp and firm hands pulling me up as Carlisle spoke. I remember being so stiff that I whimpered when they moved me and someone held my hands down so I could not fight them off. There was a thick blanket of wool and then a couch in Carlisle's study. I felt the guilt ripping apart the inside of my stomach, literally eating me alive, and remembered soft, quiet voices forcing me to drink. And then I remember darkness.

I can remember this but not _remember_ it. The next definitive thing I can recall is waking up in the study with the shades drawn and tears already leaking from my eyes. I recognized home and my heart wrenched; I curled into a ball and sobbed in huge raspy breaths. _I did not deserve this._

Sleep came again and when I finally woke there were no more tears; I had run dry. For a minute I stayed in place, but the gentle rustling of papers motivated me. Sitting up was surprisingly painful as I turned to Carlisle. There was nothing to say so I scratched my scalp absently and avoided eye contact.

"Good morning, Jasper. How do you feel?" The soft tread approached until I could see his house shoes in my peripheral vision.

"Like shit," I replied with a moan. _Had he wanted honesty_? I picked at the shredded cast with rambling fingers and watched as it disintegrated into my hands.

The silence was awkward after five minutes. I knew with bleak acceptance that it had to be said, but my anger at his reluctance held me back. Pride held me back after ten minutes. After fifteen minutes I was staring silently at my pale forearm, which was riddled with tracks and scars and too hideous to look at for more than a passing glance. My eyes slowly trained away and found Carlisle's as he stood waiting. Though I could not say it directly, I had to say _something._

"Are – are you going to let me stay?" I said, betrayed by the stumble of my voice into vulnerability.

Carlisle's face remained impassive. "You cannot be like this anymore, Jasper." It was not a true answer but it was the truth; we both knew it.

I pressed my palm against my forehead and inhaled loudly, trying to ignore the meaning behind his words. "You think I like myself, Carlisle?" I asked quietly after a moment's pause. When he remained silent I continued,

"Well I _don't_. I don't, and I hate it and I hate _me_." I looked up to him through shimmering eyes. "I just want it to end – I'm so tired… so tired," I moaned and buried my face in my hands.

"Jasper –" His voice was hesitant. I sniffed back my tears as his hand reached out to my shoulder.

"You're a doctor, Carlisle. Fix me. Just fucking _fix me_." Though my voice was hoarse, I was relieved that it was not broken. It was my body that was broken, and I flinched at the simple weight of Carlisle's comfort upon me.

"Let me see what you've done to yourself," he said gently and with a new tone of promise in his voice.

So I unbuttoned my utter ruin of a shirt and let him see the bruises – I let him see the dark mottled flesh that covered my right side, almost recognizable as boot prints if you knew the angle of attack. I let him see the swollen welts like thin cords that still paraded across my back – still grew stiff and painfully tight – and the battleground that my sinewy chest had once been. I let him see this and I bundled my shirt around my left arm so he could not see the truly debilitating scars that would haunt him the most because those scars were not just a symbol childhood or my foggy past; those scars were _me_.

Once I had demonstrated to Carlisle the impossibility of raising my arm over my head, he investigated my ribcage, gently poking and prodding some places that made me grit my teeth. While he determined that nothing was broken and I would be fine with just a bandage, we talked in halting, trailing phrases and I tried to goad him into suggesting what had caused such an uproar the last time. I still could not broach the subject myself as a matter of pride.

"I'm sorry I snapped yesterday," I finally told him. "It was not my intention to do that."

He hesitated and then chose a different direction for the conversation. "Yes it was, but I still shouldn't have spoken like I did. It was presumptuous."

I shook my head slightly and hissed as he prodded a particularly sensitive area around my sternum. "I don't want to be like this. I don't _want_ to be like this. I don't want to _feel_ like this, Carlisle, but I cannot stop it."

Carlisle took an assessment of the situation and quickly came to the end of the path where I had led him. Still, his voice was merely suggestive when he said, "The only sure answer is therapy and your medications. Do you remember then?"

_Remember then… _in truth that brief calming of the ocean had become a short-lived eye to the choppy squalls that my life consisted of. I could hardly remember it because it had only been months of peace, and it had shattered down around me violently. I still had the scars to prove it.

Yet, I nodded. "I think – _ah_," I hedged, not wanting to say yes _exactly_, "okay, okay, I give up trying alone. I'll do it, _but:_ Dr. Stanley stays out of my business."

"Good choice," he said and clapped me softly on the shoulder. I still winced but hardly registered the pain. The momentous decision had been made _and in how many words spoken?_ Carlisle was not making a huge deal of it, but I knew internally he was shouting with happiness – he just had too much control to show it. I was still shell-shocked myself, having just thrown in a white flag after all this time… after this time, was anything really going to change me?

Carlisle picked up the phone on his desk and began to dial out. His rolodex was open before him and he only glanced over at me once, just to be sure I was still holding up the white flag. As he spoke into the phone, his tone assured me. _Yes, Jasper, things are about to change._

* * *

_Yes, readers, things are about to change. I led you on a merry rollercoaster this chapter and am very anxious to know your thoughts. To all continuous readers and even the newer ones: review and let me know what you think of the developments!_


	23. Answers Are: Only answers

_I hope that I'm the only one gifted with insomnia right now. It's currently 1:46 AM Eastern Standard Time. The 3 cups of coffee I drank at 8 PM are still going strong; the bad news is that I have to be up at 5:30 to face the day, the first tests of the semester_ and _my job). So your reviews_ _will help make what is undoubtedly the worst Friday-test-day into an awesome event. Enjoy!_

* * *

Intox 23

I had showered and changed and stepped into the leather interior of Carlisle's Mercedes. As he pulled out of the garage and into the rainy gray of mid-morning, I closed my eyes and pretended to rest. The car was often a place to reignite awkward conversations because there was little chance of a successful escape, and I feared that Carlisle would strike upon this as a way to continue our fragile truce that had developed this morning.

He did not. We worked in a lull of perfect silence, operating and communicating through _feel_ rather than voice. I walked into the psychiatric office under my own power and took a seat immediately. Carlisle went first to the front desk before returning and handing me a clipboard; I dropped my copy of _National Geographic_ and filled out the form without thinking too deep into it. Answers are only answers, never riddles like we all want them to be. _Just answer them and fuck off._

Ten minutes later a massive bald man who could have passed as an eggplant, especially with his ruddy complexion, beckoned us through the door. We followed. A maze of doors appeared on the other side and I watched our guide, terrified to be abandoned and forgotten in this place – it was straight from a hellish nightmare I frequently had. I kept my hand out, ready to grasp Carlisle's shoulder if need be, but the man entered an office ahead of us and took his seat behind a mahogany desk. After a moment of careful deliberation, I convinced myself to follow the lead and sat across from him.

Carlisle handed my medical file to him like it was a complete dossier on the Cold War and took the seat beside me. The man dropped it with a _thud_ to his desk and, shaking my hand, introduced himself as Dr. Andalano. I nodded and failed to say anything.

"I've got to say," the doctor said as he thumbed through the first twenty pages of my life, "that when you called me I was less than thrilled about taking this case first thing on a Saturday morning. After seeing this –" he motioned to the manila file –"I am downright reluctant. I don't even know where to begin with this."

Carlisle reached forward and flipped almost to the end before stopping. "Start here for now," he said, "and I _do_ apologize for the short notice."

Dr. Andalano read quickly, his eyes skimming while he made _hmm_ noises on particularly juicy details of my past. I gritted my teeth and kept my mouth shut; I wanted to make a decent first impression. When the man had finally finished with what could be politely read in such a short time he looked up at me, gray eyes furrowed in thought.

"Is it okay if I ask a few questions?" His voice was directed at me but he looked deferentially to Carlisle as he spoke. Carlisle caught this, nodded, and began to stand.

"Where you_ go-in'?"_ I asked, starting to my feet. I could have kicked myself for letting that damn native dialect slip through but decided to ignore its presence. The desperation and panic in my voice was more audible, and Carlisle took pains to assure me that he was _waiting_ outside the door. Disbelieving but accepting reluctantly, I returned to my seat, collected myself, and addressed the doctor.

"So then, why so curious?"

My efforts to change the tone of the meeting were largely unsuccessful. If anything, the man scowled more after I opened my mouth. His eyes were soul-piercing and I suddenly regretted Carlisle's departure immensely. _What am I doing?_ Answers are only answers, never solutions, but some things cannot be solved and others cannot be answered. _Just stay calm and do not panic._

"Your file is quite…" Andalano said before pausing for a good euphemism for _fucked up_. I supplied an answer dutifully.

"Extensive? Intense? Dramatic? Impressive? Interesting? Book-ish?"

He nodded. "My first thought would have been _fucked up_."

My eyes widened at his choice of words then relaxed as I felt myself smile. Uncomfortable with this, I struck. "So what are you, some obscene cross between Paul Giamatti and the Hamburglar?"

"Defensive much?"

"When I have to be." I eyed him.

"Ever think it's too much?"

"All the time. Listen: you're going to let me know that I'm not crazy. I know that I'm not crazy because crazy people don't understand that they're crazy and I do. I know. So tell me: am I crazy?"

"You think you're insane?"

"I _am_ losing my mind."

"You aren't insane."

"If you say so." I tapped my fingers against the arms of the chair and waited. It did not take long to get down to business.

"So… you're a borderline personality."

"You don't see many of us? More depressed teenagers and rocky marriages than people like me?" Instead of giving him an answer, I had made a riddle of the answer. I was being an ass and defeating my own purpose but it was habitual.

Andalano looked up from my reopened profile as if he had not heard me. He spoke and his words were blunt. _Too blunt._ He was like me in that regard. "When was the last time you tried to kill yourself?"

If he had phrased that any other way, my answer would have been different for each one. When was the last time you _wanted_ to kill yourself? When was the last time you _almost _killed yourself? When was the last time you _threatened_ to kill yourself? When was the last time you _thought_ you _had_ killed yourself? When was the last time someone tried to kill _you_? As it was, the question he _did _ask stopped me in my tracks. He had to repeat himself twice before I answered.

"Six years ago," I said hoarsely. I could remember the date: _November 13__th_. It would be engrained in my memory until death stopped waiting around and swept down for me. Or swept _up_ for me.

He eyed me with a crooked gaze. "Care to elaborate on the motive?"

I opened my mouth to retort but had nothing to say for once. Instead I shook my head. My thoughts were spinning around the scene too fast. From what I remembered of the event, it had been dramatic and overdone, much like my personality dictated.

"I've been fine since then," I lied smoothly, replacing the façade as quickly as it had been torn down. Hopefully he had not seen the effect that his question had had on me.

He made a deeply suspicious noise and scribbled some notes onto his paper. The motion angered me; I had seen it too many times over the years to be comfortable with it. I demanded to know what he was writing and he, obviously ignoring me, simply asked me a second question.

"This prescription abuse Carlisle told me about – was it the first incident like this for you?"

"You can read my file to find that out," I said.

"Since then?"

"_No._"

"Was there anything specific that triggered it this time?"

"Aren't you supposed to be more subtle than this?" I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees and using the weight to keep my feet from tapping restlessly against the floor.

"Aren't _you_ supposed to _answer_ my questions?"

_Touché._

We stared silently for several minutes, dueling with our eyes. We matched second for second, blink for blink, and our gazes never wavered. My anger did, however, and so I was the first one to look away. I answered without meeting his eyes.

"I don't really _know_ why," I said and then, to try to counteract this statement, added with a laugh, "addictive personality?"

"If I set a bottle of prescription-strength medicine on this table and left the room, how many pills would be here when I returned?"

"What kind?" Looking at him through the corner of my eye, I saw his frown deepen.

"Does it matter?"

I shook my head as I studied my hands meticulously for dirt particles. My answer, when I could force it through lips that did not want to divulge secrets, was no. It came out as a whisper and even that was enough to deafen me.

I felt him nod and the confirmation of his suspicions crushed me. A few more questions were asked lightly and were answered almost inaudibly. Guilt, sickness, and disgust were threatening to turn my stomach; not enough of it was the pills wearing off. I hated myself.

When he told me that he would fully review my file before our next appointment Monday I could not bring myself to reply at all. My muscles trembled with self-destructive energy, and I tried to hold it back as he told me that a prescription course could be set then but only under Carlisle's supervision. He did not trust me. _I_ did not trust me, not even to speak – not even to ask for my foster father.

The hatred I now felt was the opposite of what I wanted. I wanted acceptance, craved hope, and needed normalcy. This was only an empty version of me, and it made me realize why I never contemplate my thoughts or actions: _because I hate them._

"Jasper?"

I did not answer him – could not answer him – but I opened my eyes, at least, so he knew I was not _so_ far gone. He must have realized this because he was polite enough to retrieve Carlisle from the hallway outside the door.

"Jasper and I were just talking," the doctor said as Carlisle resumed his seat. "Based on this interview, I will meet him again on Monday afternoon to start a course of treatment and determine his prescription levels. What that does is allow me the time to fully read this textbook here –" he placed one hand over my manila folder as if it was a Bible –"and come up with something for you. Okay?"

Carlisle nodded.

"The best thing for you to do right now is go home, have lunch, and spend time together as a family."

My head snapped up at his words. Through my hair I could see both the sincerity and double-meaning in his words. He assumed I was not safe on my own (which I wasn't, of course) and had let Carlisle know without so many words. My mouth curled into a snarl. I wanted to shout _"Fuck You!"_ from the rooftops.

But I didn't. I held my tongue until Carlisle and I were driving home and he asked me what I had thought of Dr. Andalano. The question hardly surprised me. Neither did the fact that I had an answer.

"He's unnerving and abrupt," I said. "He reads my mind, says what I would say, treats me like I'm not there half the time but studies me the rest of it like I'm a lab rat. I cannot decide what he's going to say or do next." _He's too much like me._ "I really don't like him."

What did surprise me was Carlisle's laughter. It rolled off his tongue naturally, though it was something I heard little of in reality. "No, I didn't suppose you would like him at first. He's a bit rough around the edges."

"You can say that," I muttered.

"He's kinda like you."

I snorted back a laugh but he heard me. The tension between us dissipating, we both chuckled at the thought before I reclined back and pressed my hands against my eyes.

"_God_, Carlisle. Where did we tell the rest of them we were going?"

He glanced over at me before resting his eyes on the road. "We went to the hospital. Dr. Stewart was nice enough to lend us her X-ray lab. Your ribs are only bruised. _No_ medicine necessary." He looked pointedly at me here and I stared back with raised eyebrows. "End of story."

I nodded. "That's where I thought we went." Not that anyone, least of all Esme, would challenge our story, it was still relieving to know what to say. As a matter of pride (if you could call it that), I had refused to make any announcement on the appointment. There was already an unspoken agreement between Carlisle and I that he would take me back on Monday so that I did not have to tell Edward anything. How I would ever explain this to his smirking face was both frightening and unfathomable. What would he say if I told him that I had needed professional help?

_Hopefully I would never have to._

* * *

_E/N. What we see here is an introduction into my diabolical new development that I call "Therapy." I hope the back-and-forth banter told you a bit more about J's personality and past. BTW... did anyone notice Carlisle is much more awesome when he isn't trying to father Jazz - I think he makes a much cooler uncle-type figure for my leading character. Just my not-so-humble opinion._

For those of you who do not follow my tweets, this is my get rich slowly scheme.... "_Master Plan Part A: Excavate the Ocean."_


	24. Dreamscapes

_I was done with this chapter on Friday but unable to post until now. My apologies._

* * *

Intox 24

My hands are my own. From the tips of my broken fingernails to the wrinkles that form the Life Line, I own my hands. Each digit, as it flexes before my glassy eyes, is under my control. My direction guides them in and out of the flow of fate, through the hazes of gray, and past the shades of heroin. These fingers, held inches from my face, are _everything_. I can hardly think – hardly remember anything but the burn running up my nostril as I inhaled the entire line of China White – but I know that keeping my eyes focused on _these_… is important.

The room is not my old room. It is merely a high-walled, industrial room with a rough corrugated roof and dingy skylights. The light bulbs are flickering bulbs in thick metal cages; their yellow light is faded because I am in the shadows. I am in the dusk. I _am_ dusk and the mildewed red couch pillows I have stolen are my lullaby. They are a soft comfort for me and the love of my life lying beside me. I have forgotten her identity because my fingers are _everything_.

I blinked and my vision went black. For a moment I reveled in the sensation of immense blackness as it came over me. I had forgotten this feeling. Then I understood that I could feel _too_ much; I could feel the blackness and the terror in my gut. With a sigh, I rolled in bed and looked at the clock.

1:17 a.m.

"Fuck," I grumbled and pulled the blankets back around me, my eyes still on the clock. I waited, watching as the digits blinked first to eighteen and then twenty-two. Sleep was eluding me and the knot in my stomach was growing larger.

The dream was a recurring event. It was an eerie combination of my past and the unknown; while the room and sensations were reminiscent of my sixteenth summer, this dream adds more. I never have found out who the "love of my life" is (though I do not suppose I ever will at this point) or gotten to the end I know is coming. Sometimes I have lain awake just thinking of how the nightmare would only be a dream if I could finish it out to the end. In fact, it would be a _happy_ dream because the true ending was a happy one.

The clock had skipped ten minutes by the time that I realized the terror was deafening me. My head swam.

My eyes were suddenly wide with recognition. I threw the comforter and vaulted out of bed, ignoring the screaming protest of my battered body as I ran.

I tossed her door open and fumbled my way to the light switch. Piercing light illuminated the room but only made me blinder. I tripped over a heinous mountain of clothes and fell heavily. Still, I floundered on my knees until I could reach the small body tucked into a ball. Her fear made me sick.

"Alice! Alice, _Ali_!" I shook her. "Hey, Ali, wake up." She would not wake and that made me nervous. If there was a dream that she sank into too deep, it was of her past. And that, in and of itself, was a nightmare without the ghastly workings of a subconscious mind to help.

_"Alice!"_ I hissed and slapped her.

She woke with a startled scream and scrambled backward. I caught her shoulders and shook her until she stopped. Finally her face blinked into recognition.

"Jasper?"

I nodded and released her.

"What are you doing up?" She scrunched her eyes and peered blearily at the alarm clock; it took her more time than normal to read the hands and seconds passing. "It's one-thirty!"

I brushed off the question with a shrug and snorted. "I don't sleep so well anymore."

She forced a few hysterical laughs between gasps.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I watched the way her fingers clutched at the sheets when I mentioned her dream. She shook her head hastily, her short hair swishing softly without any hair products. It had grown out; I wondered briefly how long I had had my head up my ass.

I accepted her shutdown gracefully and pulled her into a hug instead. She burst out into dry sobs, which were stifled by my overshirt. _Luckily._ Still, I shushed her gently and, picking her up, carried her downstairs to the kitchen. She clung to me while I dug through the refrigerator and the cupboard for a carton of milk and the pack of vanilla cookies.

We sat at the kitchen's island and Alice scooted the stools closer while I dug out a large cereal bowl from the cupboard. She opened the plastic packaging and waited for me to pour a large bowl of milk before dipping the first cookie with a shaky hand.

Neither of us was hungry or in any mood to eat. In the past, however, we had begun this odd ritual and now stuck to it because it had a sense of familiarity to it. When either of our dreams woke us, the childlike sensation of eating cookies had made us feel better; it was no longer about the cookies – it was simply our time to silently share comfort and we went about it in the best way we knew how.

I snickered when Alice's cookie broke apart in hand and fell into the bowl, though I managed to swipe it out for her before the thing dissolved. She did not laugh until I knocked the side of the bowl, spilling milk across the counter and drawing out the curse word that tumbled from my lips. We mopped up the mess after the laughter had subsided and decided silently that it was time to retire to the living room.

Though the movie that we ended up watching on TV was boring and punctuated only by infomercials, neither of us was able to sleep. Alice was still shaken by her nightmare; she cried, at first softly but gradually growing into heaving shakes. I pulled my arms around her again and kept my eyes on the screen as I held her, not wanting to be attentive to the painful emotions I was feeling. When she did not stop shivering, I gave her my tear-stained overshirt and, though now clothed only in flannel pants and a black wife beater, was able to smile at _her _comfort.

We fell asleep at 5 a.m. watching an infomercial for custom jeans whose models were straight out of 1980's fashion. I was unaware that we had even fallen asleep until I opened my eyes to sunlight and Sunday morning newscasters, who were chatting about trivialities. Raising my head over the sofa's arm, I saw Edward sitting in the recliner with a mug of coffee; he acknowledged me with the quirk of an eyebrow. I looked at myself, arms wrapped around Alice's waist, and laid back with a groan.

"I'm not going to say anything," Edward said.

"There is nothing to say."

"_Sure._"

"Just keep the sound on the television down."

"Sure." He agreed easily enough but I was still suspicious. As if realizing this he added, "If Alice forgave you I don't have a problem with it."

"She had a bad dream," I found myself explaining defensively.

Edward laughed into his coffee mug and said nothing. We listened passively to the news together in a not-entirely-awkward silence until I felt too anxious to be still.

I extricated myself carefully from the couch and rubbed my arms with a shiver, shuddering involuntarily as I saw the mottled bruises and angry pin-sized scars that seemed permanently affixed to my arm. For a moment I considered simply cutting them away but decided to endure the marks as penance. I deserved to be defined by my flaws.

"I'll be back," I announced to Edward and retired to find my pack of cigarettes. Suddenly I wanted to be alone to calm my nerves. I grabbed my cigarettes and ducked out the window into the trees, determined to climb until I reached the tops.

I scrambled as far as the limbs would carry my weight before sitting down. The sky was clear, bright, and vibrantly blue. I lit my cigarette and took a deep drag of it, simply thinking. It was too easy to think about the past and the future – too easy to fall into the trap of painful thoughts. _Why should life be so happy when I am not?_

There was no answer to that question. I finished my first boge and fished a second out of my pocket. My hands were still shaking, my brow moist with sweat that was not coming from exertion. There was what I wanted, and it was the same as what I could not have; I found it immensely frustrating.

"Fuck my life!" I said before looking around for eavesdroppers. As usual, there was no one to listen to me but the empty sky. With a sigh, I brought the Marlboro to my lips and continued to smoke.

* * *

**_So... what are you thinking? This is pretty much - well, I won't call it filler because people actually need to know some familial dynamic in this story. So, until now, Jasper has not been engaged in healthy thinking practices; he's going to have some issues with that in the future. This chapter, to sum up, is him living without overanalyzing everything - and then at the end he snaps back into his normal behavior._**

**_Any opinions on the chapter?_**


	25. What a Monday

Intox 25

Sunday afternoon was quiet. Esme was back from church by the time I came out of the trees; she convinced Alice and me to help her in the kitchen, even though I did not want to. I helped her bake cookies all afternoon and was eventually paid off with a plate of fresh cookies. We had little conversation – which was for the best – but somehow I managed to feel better anyway.

Toward evening we carried our plate of cookies into the living room and joined Edward, who was watching the cult classic _Donnie Darko_. He took several of the offered cookies as the three of us resettled on our own couches. While we watched I felt the oddest sensation of watching myself; parts of the lead character seemed to be ripped from my mind. It was disconcerting to say the least, but I was comforted with the knowledge that _I_, with my space outs and loss of control, was still not legitimately crazy like Donnie. _Right?_

After the movie, Alice picked one of her favorites and we continued the marathon. Despite the humorous blunders of Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman, I fell asleep halfway through the movie and woke only when the end credits rolled. Edward was carrying Alice to bed and I stumbled off for my own.

Carlisle pulled me aside in the morning as I came out of the bathroom and told me that he would pick me up from school an hour before classes let out. I nodded, only just paying attention as I tried to keep my stomach from turning again, and brushed past him for the kitchen. Though my pallor was gray and I felt nausea swimming in my head, I was also freezing and tea would remedy that.

Esme tried to coax me into eating but failed. I sipped delicately on a mug of peppermint tea while my family dug into their egg wraps, my body feeling too miserable to handle anything solid. My body ached with flu-like symptoms, though I would need to be stupid if I believed what was at face value.

After breakfast, Edward, Alice and I rode to school in silence. It was not uncomfortable, but I could hardly pay attention as I browsed through my textbooks and realized how behind I was. My soul was in agony already, and so I despaired until I could drag myself into the parking lot to smoke.

The cold pavement felt good beneath me. I stared stupidly at the light clouds above me, which were evidently appeased by this weekend's rain. My hands shook the cigarette as I tried to light it – it took three flicks for the lighter to burn the extra paper edge and burn tobacco. The end product was worth my efforts, though; it _almost_ felt like a familiar heaven.

I went into a dreamlike state and only woke when a shadow passed my vision. It was Bella. I scanned the parking lot behind her and easily found the pack of glaring friends she had broken away from before turning back to her.

"How was your trip to the beach?" I asked, patting the concrete beside me.

She flopped to the ground and sighed. "Cold, wet, and I skinned my palms."

I held back a groan and a laugh at the same time. _Typical Bella._ "Let me see," I said, as if there was any insight I could offer. Despite this, she listened to me; I secured the cigarette between my lips and peered at her palms closely.

"It doesn't look _too_ bad," I commented, "but you're probably gangrenous. By the end of the week… who knows."

Bella laughed genuinely before glancing up at me, curious. "You got your cast off?"

I nodded. "On Saturday," I confirmed.

"Can I see it?"

Despite myself, I felt my eyes narrow. "No."

Bella drew back but did not leave. We sat silently until I finished smoking and spoke.

"I'm a little stressed." I took a deep breath. "I didn't mean to snap." _Yes you did._

She seemed to know what I was talking about because she nodded reflectively. "Under the same rules we agreed on the other day: what is stressing you out?"

I blew out a breath and sighed heavily. In truth there were too many things. "Finals," I muttered under my breath eventually. When she eyed me dubiously – and who wouldn't, really? – I continued. "I've been here too long already, Bella, and one more year is just intolerable. I tried to study this weekend, and do you know the conclusion I came to?"

"Do I want to?"

"That I'm _fucked_." Her eyes widened at my choice of words and I apologized quickly before moving on. "I'm not going to survive this." _And I'm not just referring to the school year,_ I added miserably to myself. I was scared.

"If it's Biology or English, I can help you study," she offered, placing a hand gently on my shoulder. "Especially for the test on Friday."

"It'll take _a lot_ of effort."

"Come to my house after school so we can study; I'm making chicken alfredo."

"I'm a vegetarian," I said with a smile, "but I'll still come over."

Bella grinned and got to her feet. _"Awesome."_ Once again, I heard too much emotion in her voice; I could not tell what it was, though. "I'll see you in Biology." She disappeared before I had a chance to reply. My head spun and I had to wonder what the hell had just happened.

I knew Alice had seen or foreseen the stars of friendship aligning for Bella and I, but she said nothing as we sat down at our lunch table. She seemed resigned. We chatted quietly as she picked through her salad and Edward studied, and happily our conversations did not touch upon _me_ as much as they did life.

When I sat down in Biology class Bella was waiting expectantly. I had to reference her book to see what page mine should be on so I could try to take notes. Again I wondered how long I had been in my own little world, too absorbed with myself to be of any use to society or those around me – not that I currently was or would be soon; it was the potential of one day being useful that gave me hope.

I had forgotten to mention that I had to leave school early so Bella was surprised when the vice principal came to the door for me mid-lecture. She gave me a quizzical gaze to which I replied generically about another X-ray for my bruised ribs; she let me off without further inquiry, even if other students appeared triumphant.

"I _will_ be there in one hour," I said as I gathered my books. "I _promise_. I'll have Carlisle drop me off – might need a ride back, actually."

"Sure," she offered easily and I smiled in relief. The last thing I needed now was more complications because, as I was sure, more were approaching fast.

I was escorted down the same condemning hall – this time without Carlisle – and shown into Dr. Andalano's office. I took up the same seat as before and wrapped my arms protectively around me because I was both to insecure and too cold to be here. Thankfully, the wait was not too long; he bustled into the room and sat down. The cushion of his chair gave a small _poof_ as it accepted his weight and then quieted.

"Good afternoon," he said after he had situated himself.

"It's a shitty day," I countered. He quirked an eyebrow but said nothing; I suppose he was coming to grasp my counter productivity.

"All right, I've decided to take your case. Also, I have already given your father-"

_"Carlisle,"_ I interjected quickly.

"-your prescription slip; he is in charge of it. I'm sure you were expecting that."

I nodded.

"I'm starting you with a low dose of Olanzapine. We will see how that works for the week and readjust if necessary next Monday."

"Okay…" my mind was furiously trying to remember what the drug _did_. It sounded familiar. _Had I taken it before?_

"If you feel unduly stressed, jittery, aggravated, or if you feel very drowsy, let Carlisle know immediately. Keep away from stressors for the first week and we can discuss it this Friday at your next appointment. Above all, remember that you will need to aid the medicine – it can't do it all by itself."

I nodded again, already feeling stressed at the prospect of committing to this. It must have shown in my eyes because he took extra pains to reassure me. I shrugged it off and pointedly checked my watch.

"How is school doing for you, Jasper?" Andalano asked slowly.

"I'm failing," I said curtly, continuing with "and it doesn't make me _feel_ anything other than pissed off."

He chuckled. "Love interest?"

"No." My mind turned not-so-surprisingly to Bella. I should have seen that coming.

"Any potentials?" He had read my history, but was this man a complete idiot?

"I don't think so." My tone was abrupt – much more so than I had expected. I startled myself but truthfully had not had a relationship since my escapades in Alaska. They all ended badly.

Dr. Andalano nodded reflectively. "That's for the best right now – it would only redirect your focus from the progress you are trying to make.

That stuck with me more than the rest of our conversation. The rest was meaningless simply because I was stuck in the implications of my relationships, my past, and my future. I left the room more subdued than I had been during the day; I wanted to find a corner to hide myself in until I could stop thinking.

Carlisle actually thought it was a good idea for me to go to Bella's house, despite my insisting that I did not feel well and wanted to go home. He dropped me on the curb where her truck was parked in its gravel driveway and drove away before I could curse at him. I considered simply walking away but the door opened before I was able to.

"Jasper, c'mon in," she called, opening the screen door and leaning out. Looking, I realized how impossible it was for me to just leave. I bounded up the steps and through the doorway into her foyer instead, a smile slowly creeping over my features as I turned toward her.

'Just call me Grasshopper." I plunked down my book holding backpack (formerly of other purposes).

Bella snorted, shut the door behind her, and signaled for me to follow her to the kitchen table as she muttered something about old Asian kung fu movies. I kicked my muddy shoes off and followed.

The table was clean except for Bella's scattered notebooks. I took up the seat adjacent to her and opened my book. Bella, at the stove, asked me what I needed help with and I, much to her amusement, replied "everything."

"Okay," said Bella without breaking stride, "we'll start with the scientific theory. Now get over here and help me cook!"

Her tutoring method was unorthodox. For an hour I chopped ingredients, stirred cream, and learned how to sauté mushrooms while Bella, working beside me, quizzed me from memory on lessons we had gone over in class. I did not think I was learning anything until we put the Italian bread in the oven to toast and Bella asked me a question I could actually answer.

"Hey! You got it!" she exclaimed, clapping.

"I knew the answer all along," I said with a smirk.

The phone rang before she got a chance to reply, but she swatted my arm as she went to answer it. I waited, just feeling the shockwaves spreading out from the impact, until she came back into the room.

"So it's official: you're staying for supper. My dad will be home in a few minutes."

"Oh, Bella, I should go."

"That's ridiculous!" She planted her hands firmly on her hips and stared me down; it was intimidating coming from such a petite woman. "Just sit down!"

I sat, folding my legs beneath me Indian-style. After checking the bread she took the seat by me and wrapped her arms around her knees. We studied each other. I scratched my forearms instinctively and waited.

"I downloaded Janis Joplin's greatest hits the other day," Bella said suddenly.

My eyebrows rose. I was, admittedly, impressed. "And?"

"She was a great singer. I'm not sure what my favorite song is yet."  
"Yeah," I agreed. "It can be hard to decide…" I trailed off, absorbed in thought. I knew what my favorite song was and, as usual, it depicted my current life situation.

"What's so funny?"

I opened my eyes and found Bella peering into them. Her eyes were liquid pools, searching mine fervently. The smile ghosting my lips widened into a grin. I shook my head.

"Bella, have you heard _Mercedes Benz_ yet?"

Bella laughed lowly, but the sound still detracted me from the closing of the front door. "I was singing that song all day yesterday!" she exclaimed. "Wasn't I, Dad?"

I turned in my seat to see Chief Swan in the doorway from the foyer. He eyed me with surprise and – unless I was mistaken – mistrust. I jumped to my feet immediately and greeted him with a handshake. He looked past me to his daughter, exchanging a meaningful look before breaking the awkwardness of the situation. _Clearly he hadn't known _I_ was going to be here._

"_Mercedes Benz_? I thought I was going to have to kick you out of the house," he said with a tender smile, clearly joking. "Where on Earth did you get your taste in music?"

"_Dad_!" Bella tossed a towel at her father. "Go get ready for dinner!"

He excused himself to wash up and Bella and I set the table quickly. I tried once more to excuse myself from their meal – failing miserably once again – before sitting back in my seat with a none-too-serious scowl.

Bella dished out the pasta as soon as Chief Swan was at the table, keeping up our side of the conversation so I did not have time to notice my shaking hands. On my part, it was difficult to ignore his presence so I passed him the sautéed mushroom sauce with a tentative smile. He took the dish and did not smile back. Rebuked, I stirred the contents of my plate and stayed silent.

"So, Bella, how was school today?"

"Oh, um… I got an A on my English paper, ate pizza for lunch, and decided to be a tutor." She winked at me as she said the last one. I smiled a bit.

"Is that like a school program or something?" he asked.

"Extra-curricular, Dad. Jasper is kinda behind in biology class."

Despite how the words made me come off like a social deviant, I nodded in agreement and took a quick bite. It was delicious.

The three of us ate in uninterrupted silence for most of the meal. Chief Swan rinsed his plate off and offered to help clean the dishes; Bella shooed him from the room by saying that we would take care of it.

"How is our biology project going?" I finally spoke. I was almost elbow deep in sudsy water.

"There's an exhibit in Seattle-"

"Next Saturday. The day of the dance," I finished.

"Yeah! How'd you know?"

"I pay attention."

"I only told two people."

"In that case I am an exceptional eavesdropper," I amended with a chuckle. "No, my real reason was to see if you wanted a ride."

I waited but there was only silence. It was unbearable. Bella was staring at me when I turned. _Had I said something?_

"What?"

"That's unexpected. It's really _nice_ of you." She still looked shell-shocked.

"_Pfft!_ I'm actually just inviting myself along and trying to make it more convenient for you since my brother and I were going into the city that day anyway," I said. I had to get out from under the stigma of kindness in some way.

Her eyes widened into globes as she tried to determine whether I was joking or serious. I turned away smugly and, seeing the smile, she burst into laughter and doubled over. I had to wash dishes alone while she composed herself.

"Edward wouldn't mind?" she asked once she had breath.

"I'll check to make sure," I said, thinking of the OCD rigidity he sometimes displayed, "but I doubt it."

"Okay," she agreed.

I stayed long enough to finish cleaning the kitchen and get her to laugh again. She drove me home and for the few minutes I was in her truck we listened to the radio playing a mix of static and Golden Oldies. I had forgotten my earlier melancholy in the ebb and flow of our conversation.

Bella was definitely a distraction.

_I would be damned if I didn't love her for it._

_

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_

**E/N: I have a clear idea of the chapters following this one. Unfortunately (and as you can see), updates will be undisciplined for the fall semester. Working mornings, learning in the evenings, and studying on the weekends doesn't give me much time for reading OR writing. Nevertheless, I am working forward!**

**Let me know what you thought of the chapter. Give me some details as incentive, too, just so I can ignore my 3 Biology papers a little bit longer. Eh?**


	26. A Week of Woes and Worry

_Yes, Sophie, I am alive! Everyone: this chapter is written choppily on purpose. Please do not skim the chapter; you miss out on so many important little details. Read on!!! =D_

Intox 26

That night Carlisle told me he had filled my prescription and portioned some out for the school nurse to administer in the mornings. _Just to be sure I actually took them._ I nodded, declined dinner, and went to speak with Edward before bed.

Tuesday started a new routine for me. Before school started I had to check in with the nurse, who gave me a sympathetic look as she handed me two pills. I swallowed them quickly and submitted to her checking my mouth. I was too happy at the thought of pills to object to it.

Whatever effect the medicine was supposed to have on me did not work. As morning progressed I felt no different; my nerves were still shot, my hands still shook, and my anxiety almost bled from my veins. My fingers tapped restlessly through morning classes despite how hard I tried to focus on the lessons. My consolation was that I had enough appetite to actually eat lunch.

In Biology we took notes and watched the beginning of a documentary on the Galapagos Islands. Bella and I exchanged notes throughout, arranging for another study session at her house. If she paid attention to my twitchiness, she said nothing.

Instead of getting a ride from Edward, I rode with Bella. Surprisingly, we played a continuation of the 20 Questions that had begun on Saturday, though neither of us brought up the incident. I almost turned crimson at the thought of climbing into a lady's room – _Bella's _room – around midnight… and staying the night. It was embarrassing. It was inappropriate. It was not something I would be admitting any time soon.

"Okay, Question Five," Bella said as we pulled into her driveway and she parked. "What is your favorite color?"

_Stupid question; I don't have one._ "Brown," I answered promptly before catching myself. I opened the door and hopped out of the truck before she could question me further. My ears were warm.

The driver's side door swung shut with a violent creak. Bella appeared around the corner lugging her heavy backpack. I lifted it from her strained grip so she could unlock the house and carried it inside for her. When she turned to take it back, she tripped; I caught her, and for a moment there was only the sound of our breath mixing in the thin space between us.

I straightened first, setting her back on her feet with a thin laugh. She stumbled forward; I almost caught her again but stopped short as she righted her footing. _Clumsy_. I kicked off my shoes on the mud mat and made for the kitchen table.

"So… what is your favorite color, Bella?" I plunked our book bags down on the tabletop and searched for a water glass.

Bella elbowed me aside, her face bright red, and opened the cabinet drawer above the ones I had been ransacking. "I usually know for sure," she mumbled, "but right now I'm caught between blue and green." She handed me a glass.

"Why not blue-green?" I suggested, filling my glass at the sink across the small kitchen. I tried not to look because she was so embarrassed by the question. It was _too_ personal for her.

"Hazel?"

"Yeah." I returned to my seat at the table and watched her curiously.

"That is an idea," she mused. She bit her bottom lip in deliberation. We both waited in silence for her to come to some decision; it seemed like a pivotal moment but the answer never came. Instead, Bella pulled the textbook out of her bag and opened it with a _thunk_.

We studied. It was a more traditional session, with her and I actually going over notes and highlighting. Well, she had already done most of this. Bella let me know after forty minutes that she needed to drive me home early because she needed to make dinner. It embarrassed her, but I understood why her father would not want me here; if I was a father, I would not like someone like me either.

Wednesday. It was already feeling like the same shit but a different day. Call me crazy, but I think my insomnia had gotten worse; I paced anxiously the night before, debating whether or not I should find a sharp object to rub my arms against, before falling into an uneasy sleep. My dreams were nightmares. My nightmares were hideous. I woke in a cold sweat, tears shining in my eyes.

That morning I was hungry but could not bring myself to eat. I snapped at Esme when she asked me if I wanted anything then felt horrible that I had actually spoken like that. I forced myself to apologize before she cried – because she looked about ready to – and to take a cup of tea. Edward watched me with contempt, Alice with empty eyes. The spoon clattered against the ceramic cup while I stirred until I dropped it to the counter and sat down in my corner.

School was intolerable. I was too cold and too energetic to sit at desks all day; I told my teacher so and was sent to the office for lunch, where I foot-tapped until I was allowed to go to Biology.

Seeing Bella did bring a smile to my face, so I cannot fully complain. We watched the stupid environmentalist movie the rest of the way, but I felt the familiar presence of a connection between us like electricity. It crackled in the air between us like a pleasant static charge; I wanted to test it but was afraid that it was volatile. Our personalities were made to clash, I reasoned, so why not our energies as well?

I had not expected Bella to offer her tutoring services again, but she did. I accepted. We talked about movies, weather, climate change, M.A.S.H., television shows and books before settling into actually study. I opened my book and read what Bella told me to while she ambled about the kitchen, pulling ingredients from the cupboards. Despite our pretenses toward amiability, the atmosphere was tense. I could not concentrate under the situation. _Did she want me here? She didn't yesterday. Do I leave? Do I help?_

"Bella, what do I do here?" I slammed my book shut with a frustrated growl.

She hurried over and looked at her book. I watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear with the palm of her hand; she frowned in concentration then noticed me watching her and looked up.

"It's just memorization, I guess," she said with a shrug. "I don't know."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I don't care about the functions of eukaryotes, Bella. I can't study this – fuck it." I sighed and dismissed the work with a wave. "I'm sorry for the language. Do you want help cooking? I can't study like this… while you're doing work and I'm being a useless fuck."

Bella snorted back a laugh when I apologized again. "I'm not scandalized by foul language," she said dryly. "Most people our age _do_ curse."

_Not around ladies,_ I thought. I tried to curb my tongue around women because, while they had equally foul mouths now, I still held on to some old traditions. _Yeah, call _me_ a gentleman._

"You don't mind helping me cook?"

"Hell no!" I actually relished the idea of being active.

She smiled. "Okay then… I'm just not used to help; Charlie can't cook to save his life so I don't let him in this room."

"I'll try at least," I said and hopped to my feet. Never before had I realized that Bella was half a foot shorter than me.

"And you're going to stay for the enchiladas, right?"

"Am I allowed?" In light of "Charlie's" opinion of me, her suggestion seemed brazen.

Bella stopped what she was doing and turned to me, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she said, "What makes you think you aren't allowed here?"

My hackles were raised by her accusatory tone. "I'm just saying that I'm not a police favorite, okay?"

Her eyes narrowed. _Were her eyes tearing up?_ "Is that all you think of him as? A cop, not my father?"

I opened my mouth to explain but she cut me off. "No, Jasper, that is bullshit!" she thrust a pointed finger at me. "Everyone else thinks of me as the cop's daughter. I don't get invited to parties, campfires, or general social functions because I'm a cop's daughter; _you_ don't have the right to use that as an excuse to leave!"

"What the fuck makes you think I don't want to be here?" I snapped, my voice close to shouting; I forced myself to take a breath before continuing quietly. "Your dad doesn't _like_ me, Bella. I'm trying not to cause trouble. Maybe… maybe I should just go."

"No, no," she said. "Don't do that. Stay. I need some help making dinner."

I nodded and agreed. "_Christ!_ I need a cigarette," I laughed.

I excused myself from the kitchen and pulled my squashed pack of cigarettes from my pocket as I headed for their small porch. As I smoked, I studied the cast iron railing and worn porch swing, skimming my fingers over the surfaces. The smoke was a haze around my face as I smoked; I could feel the flaking paint on the rails, the flecks of rust beginning to show through, and the smooth portions that had escaped the elements thus far.

This house had history. Then again, _everything_ had history – even me. I was a new arrival in this house's lifeline, and the short story of me would be told through the fading tracks of mud across the boards, the hovering scent of tobacco in the recesses of the porch, the ashes where I snuffed my butts. I was erasable, if necessary. _Utterly erasable._

With a smile, I put out my cigarette and returned to Bella.

The rest of the day had no consequence. On Thursday my nerves reached a new level of stress that I had not known existed; I was skittish, nervous, and angry. Cigarettes were worthless, unable to quell what had been fixable even on my first week of withdrawal, but I smoked every one I had anyway. School was worthless, studying had no potential but I went to Bella's anyway and proceeded not to study for three hours, making plans for Saturday's excursion into Seattle. Bella and I exchanged phone numbers and hashed out a definite plan.

There was some sense that I needed to pass this exam or fail, but I could not study. I began to understand the futility of it by Thursday night. The realization that I would certainly be spending another year at the school was soul crushing. I even cried a little.

My alarm went off four times before I pulled myself out of bed on Friday. I did not shower; I could not shave. I picked at my food, the abnormally good appetite I had had throughout the week gone, and found myself at a loss of words to explain it. Some things came and went like the seasons; my moods came and went like tides. I had accepted it long ago.

The energy was still coursing through my body. I still felt it acutely but was too subdued to be anxious. My vacant stare caught Alice's attention during lunch; she tried to get me to smile but failed. The jokes she told did not reach me.

I failed my Biology exam. The answers, which had been drilled into my head only days before, eluded me. My multiple-choice questions were guesses. My short answers were rambling explanations as the terms faded from my memory. The handwriting was a raging scrawl across clean paper that left jumbled letters in its aftermath.

I was relieved when I was excused from my last class. Carlisle drove me to Dr. Andalano's office and clapped me on the shoulder as I disappeared down the hallway. When I knocked quietly on Andalano's open doorway, he stood and motioned for me to enter.

I took my seat and folded my hands over my lap, incapable of mustering the usual nerve to smirk to my doctor's face. He was observant enough to notice.

"What's wrong?"

I rubbed my forehead and avoided his eyes as I shrugged.

"How are you feeling?"

I shrugged again and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. "Can I tell you the truth?"

"Of course."

"I feel horrible. I feel anxious, I feel sorrow, I feel like a string pulled taunt that is about to _snap_."

"Do you know why that is?"

"I would not mention it if I thought I did, would I? How fucking stupid do I look?" I growled before pressing against my eyes harder. The pain was sharp; I took a deep breath. "I _thought_ it was my exam."

"Ah, yes. How did that go?"

"I failed it," I said with a shake of the head.

"And that was not the cause of your feelings?"

I dismissed his idea easily. "I knew I would fail before I began studying."

This interested him. He leaned forward in his seat and rested his meaty elbows on the desk. His eyebrows rose slightly over his red face. "Any other suggestions as to what it might be?"

"You think I'm a fucking wizard, don't you? Let me tell you: I do not know everything! You get paid to tell _me_ these things!" I shouted. "_God-fucking-damnit!_"

"If you are going to be belligerent-"

"I'm not," I conceded. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"I will not continue seeing you if you keep having outbursts. Understand?"

I nodded, subdued. "The problem – I think – is a girl."

"I told you earlier this week not to do this, Jasper."

"I know, but she's my lab partner. We have a thing… a trip to Seattle tomorrow to look at some science exhibit. My brother is driving us in – he's got something to do but he said he'd be cool with giving us a ride."

"And?"

"That's it, Doc. It's impossible to explain or identify, like the New Jersey Devil."

Andalano chuckled and waited for me to continue. When I did not, he made an unintelligible scribble on his notepad and looked me over. He asked me to articulate what I was feeling and how long it had been this way.

"All week, really."

"And it hasn't gone away?"

"No."

He made a suspicious _hmm_ sound and scribbled another doodle. In time his silence wore on my frayed nerves. I demanded to know what was wrong; he told me point blank exactly what I had hoped not to hear.

It _could_ be stress; it _could_ be a side effect of my medicine – medicine I was doubtful of taking in the first place. He would need to speak with Carlisle, of course. If the sensation got worse for me, I should call either him or Carlisle – even from the city. If, after Saturday, I still felt this way, then I would need to come in immediately for a reevaluation.

We discussed what he told me at length before inviting Carlisle in as well. I was excused while the two chatted privately about me, and then I went home. The family was waiting for us when we arrived, but I slipped away from the dinner table for my room.

I was tired, plagued by the one thing I had not told my shrink today which I should have. I flopped into bed and drew the blankets around me as I curled into a ball, the clock hardly registering 5 p.m. when I closed my eyes. I lied to everyone I knew, even to the people that were paid to hear me tell the truth.

I did not think it was the trip that strained my nerves so much as it was _Bella_. I did not want to lose her; I did not want to fuck up this one friendship I had managed to create, even if I knew deep down that it would happen sooner or later.

I hate being alone. More so, I _fear_ being alone. And I knew for fact that when I fucked up with Bella, I would be back where I started: facing my fears.

* * *

E/N: Almost 3 weeks. Wow. Okay, my life is very very busy right now. I have work in the morning, 5 afternoon/night classes, and bills to pay for. Stress is killing me! So I cannot update as much as I would like to (or you would like me to). My one request?

Please review this chapter. Don't tell me "Great chapter, update soon!" because I am not, in all likelihood, going to be updating soon. The next chapter is the Seattle chapter, which I am excited for... but let me know how you liked this one!

* * *


	27. Seattle and other Comforts

_A.N. I feel terrible that it has been 4 weeks! For some reason, I thought it was feasible to get this chapter done and published last weekend while on my road trip... yeah, that didn't happen. What did happen was a wicked awesome tour of New England; I spent a few nights sleeping in my car at rest stops in the mountains and some more time riding the T around Boston. No work accomplished whatsoever but it was great to run away from responsibility for a week._

_Now that I DO have this chapter finished, I hope you enjoy!_

Intox 27

I only woke once during the night and that can safely be attributed to Edward. He turned on my light shortly after 8 p.m., effectively rousing me so he could rehash Saturday's plans. I confirmed it for the thousandth time then threw my phone at him and told him to double-check what I had said with Bella.

My body hurt. My head hurt. My brain hurt. My mind hurt. I changed into bed clothes and returned to the safety of my blankets, determined not to emerge again for the rest of the night. I succeeded.

The alarm began to beep at 6:15 a.m. but I turned it off and rolled over. When it rang ten minutes later, I ripped it from the wall and fell back into bed. I smelled like B.O., but I was not getting up anyway; it did not matter.

Edward turned on my light roughly twenty minutes later but I stayed in bed until he returned a second time to harass me.

"You've got to get ready because Bella's going to be here in fifteen minutes."

"Okay." I hoped it would be an easy brush-off, but he remained standing in the doorway as I stared at the far wall.

"You aren't moving," he said.

"I will." It was better than suggesting that I not go.

"Get the fuck out of bed, Jasper. You cannot just plan something out and bail last minute because you got your panties in a twist over something stupid."

I sat up quickly, regretting the decision to move, and told him to shut up. He smirked before shrugging as if it was a fact.

"God damn it, Edward," I said slowly and with emphasis, "You had better get _out_ of my room_ right-fucking-now!_" I had to remind myself not to throw myself at him, fists ready to break and maim.

Edward backed out with raised hands and a smirk as I stared at him, my eyes hard with rage. Adrenaline spiked through my system; it was a compulsion that was hard to tame, but I quelled it and dug through the layers of clothes on my floor until I found something clean.

"I'm taking a shower," I snapped at Edward on my way to the bathroom; he chuckled and continued down the hall. "Fuck off!"

I locked the bathroom door and turned the shower to full heat before stripping out of my clothes. I gargled mouthwash for the full 30 seconds, spat, and felt around underneath the bottom drawer of the cabinet for the razor blade I kept taped there.

My fingers shook. Tension threatened to freeze my muscles. I studied the sharp edge, how it created an indent against the thick muscles of my thigh, waiting for me to draw a quick line. My eyes strayed a centimeter over to my inner thigh where an old pattern of white scars stretched in a grid. _Evidence of my past._ I exhaled and closed my eyes.

"Fifteen minutes!" shouted Edward from the other side of the door.

I flinched and my eyes flashed open. Somehow the idea that I was sitting on the edge of my tub, _naked_, with a razor blade pressed against my skin felt wrong. Whatever the case, I had no time to reintroduce old habits – no matter what I wanted. I put the blade away and stepped into the shower.

The heat was searing, but I welcomed the pain. I lathered my hair hastily and rinsed, not bothering to use conditioner; it had never worked before. I scrubbed my skin pink and, once the urge to scrape away my wrongdoings was reflected there, stood under the showerhead until the water cooled.

I shrugged into a pair of low-rise jeans that rode below my hips and were baggier than they should have been – it was the only pair of jeans that stayed up without a belt now, so I was obligated to wear them. _However foolish I look._ The shirt I wanted to wear was in the laundry room downstairs; I pulled on my black undershirt and ran a comb through my hair before accepting that my hair would _never_ be tamed.

I stalked straight past the kitchen to the laundry room and pulled the long sleeve shirt over my head. Like everything else I owned it was loose where it should have been tight. I ran my fingers through my hair and over the stitches that still held my skin together. I sighed heavily, clenched and unclenched my fists to release the tension in my body, and returned to the kitchen.

Edward was fishing through the refrigerator, but my eyes immediately caught Bella sitting at the table.

"I thought you said I had fifteen minutes," I said to Edward, my gaze still on the woman seated at my corner of the table. She looked up and met my gaze with a smile. I was not prepared for this.

"Yeah, but I said that twenty-two minutes ago," replied Edward without looking at me. I growled.

"Coffee?"

"Counter."

I poured myself a mug of coffee and began to pour creamer. A thought crossed my mind; I dropped the carton and left the kitchen to find Carlisle, keeper of the pills. Once he had been tracked down and my pills secured, I returned to what I had left off.

Alice was leaning across the table, talking to Bella over their steaming mugs. The smile on Bella's face was wary, and I knew that it stemmed from Jessica's rumors. Alice, neither smug nor _mine_ in the rumored sense of the word, was not overprotective or jealous at all. She was simply Alice.

I took my seat. "G'morning, ladies." Bella flushed bright pink and mumbled a reply. Alice beamed at me innocently; I quirked an eyebrow and nodded to her silent question – _yes, I was feeling better_. She gave me a quick hug, wished us a day of safe fun, and disappeared with a whistle on her lips.

"So, Bella, how's life?"

She studied my face; I let her read the lines and emotions within them. Her eyes moved from troubled to soft as she realized that I was not angry. Her eyes held a hint of doubt, but when I smiled this too faded away.

"Well _I'm_ in a good mood to go into the city," I supplied, spreading my fingers in a blithe manner.

"Me, too," she said with a smile. She fidgeted and took a restless sip of her coffee. "I'm happy to have a guide who knows his way around."

"Why?" I feigned a serious mood. "Who is taking you?"

It took her a moment to realize that I was only joking. Her smile broadened and turned into a grin. "Oh, shut up!"

I laughed, finished my beverage, and slid my chair back. "Why don't I go find shoes and then we can leave?" I stood and stretched, cracking my back loudly.

"You can eat breakfast first – I'm not in_ that_ big of a hurry," she assured me.

I brushed her off with a semi-truth. I _actually_ was not hungry because my stomach was in too many knots to allow food through. Wandering off in search of my shoes, I warned Edward that we were ready to go so that by the time I was at the front door the others were waiting in his car.

I sat in the backseat and made it my home. Edward and Bella were chatting softly, out of the range of my knowledge, so I leaned back and closed my eyes. The radio had excellent reception but was kept low; I stretched my legs out and tried to relax inside the speeding vehicle.

Gradually bits of conversation made sense to me; they were discussing literary plot devices, which explained why I was unfamiliar with it. When the topics turned to music – music I _knew _– after half an hour, I sat up and leaned between the seats to join their discussion.

"I'm not denouncing the merits of the Beatles," Edward was saying. "I'm just suggesting that Led Zeppelin had better music."

"Please!" scoffed Bella. "You _have_ to be aware that they plagiarized most of their hits – you know the ones they're famous for?"

"Allegedly!"

I grinned and looked between the pair. Edward looked in the review mirror and noticed.

"What are you smirking at?"

My fingers tapped against the center consol. "This is the most adorable overdone argument I have ever heard. Both of you have it wrong, though. The best classic band-"

"-is not Pink Floyd," said Edward.

"Agreed, for once," said Bella, laughing, "but he was probably going to say Janis Joplin."

I joined her laughter because the low, husky sound matched her demeanor and made me helpless. She launched into an over-the-top rendition of "Half Moon" that broke my sorry attitude in half and threw it out the window. I laughed along with the off-key lyrics and chimed in on the choruses all the way through.

"Did you know she played with the Grateful Dead?"

"No way!"

The two of us slipped into a verbal biography of the singer, with occasional input from my brother. The woman had had a colorful life, to be sure, and I told Bella about visiting her hometown. I had even been to her grave; the thought was a reminder that history might repeat itself, and it made me anxious.

Our conversation ran down and lapsed into silence. The three of us drove in a meditative silence before Edward, in his infinite asshole-ness, glanced at me in the mirror and said,

"It's such a shame that she died of a heroin overdose."

"Yeah," said Bella, her mood suddenly glum, "that sucks." She said nothing else, though, and my heart rejoiced that Edward's plan had failed.

We rode in near-silence the rest of the way to Seattle.

Edward dropped us off in front of the art exhibit. I opened the door for Bella, scrambling to remember my manners, and then leaned into the passenger's seat as she headed for the entrance.

"You have some fucking nerve," I growled. My eyes felt dangerous. "If you tell her _anything_-"

"Why would I ever admit to having a brother like you?" Edward's even voice grated on my nerves; my fists clenched at his dismissive tone. "I'll call you at 4:30 when I'm ready."

"Yeah." I slammed the door and stalked across the white cement to the exhibition hall, knocking irritably through a throng of women carrying Banana Republic bags as I went. A cry of outrage went up among them – generally derogatory shouts against my character – and I raised a brief single-finger salute to the loudest of them in parting.

Bella's face was thoughtful as I stopped before her. She hesitated before asking if I was okay. Evidently something about me seemed off (or, _more_ off than usual) today.

I forced the smile back onto my face, hardly fooling her. "Yep." My answer was too flat, but I pressed a hand against her back and ushered her into the swarm of visitors before she could contradict me. My throbbing head did not need more confrontation right now.

We set off through the maze of bodies – poor creatures who had once had a life somewhere at some time, gazing at each before reading the plaque before it. It was hard to believe that I was looking at corpses. Bella and I were silent as we went through the various organ systems; she jotted notes while I invariably made prick-like comments and did nothing to help with our assignment. She refused to comment on my behavior and the pit in my stomach tightened.

Diseased bodies were displayed in the rear of the exhibit. I hoped that we would skip over this – well-preserved folds of adipose tissue and tarred brachial tubes did not bode well with me – but Bella stopped short and began scribbling furiously. I took several pictures on the nastiness with my digital camera, sneaking several of Bella, and slid the small thing back into my pocket.

Eventually she even managed to find the end results of drug abuse. I stayed away as she absorbed the information and studied the collapsed veins, discolored organs and emaciated figure of the addict; I did not want to see what my future would be like.

The two of us were ready to leave by 10 a.m. I led the way, eager to be out of the building, and walked Bella down the street toward center city. It began the rest of the day, truthfully, because we smiled and spoke and held a lively conversation in and out of the pedestrian traffic. We went into several department stores along the way, including Macy's and Sax Fifth Avenue, to look at and mock the fashions; I carefully stayed away from the mockery of certain stores that my family shopped in just to avoid hypocrisy.

At noon we stopped at the original Starbucks coffee house for pastries and drinks. Bella said wistfully that she missed the sunshine; she looked surprised when I did not challenge her stance. No, I looked at the gray overcast sky and nodded, equally morose about the layered shirts I was wearing in mid-April. It solidified our bond, and I got her to laugh by suggesting we take off on a road trip to the South until the weather in Washington warmed.

After an hour planning a hypothetical trip, Bella and I decided that we would take the state highways all the way there, sleep in the car and bring our own meals to save money. The decision to Kerouac the trip made, we placed the trash from our overpriced coffee into a receptacle and departed so I could show her Seattle's Chinatown.

The streets were orderly, but the atmosphere was different from the rest of the city. The light poles were decorated with different colored dragons and brilliant flags; the signs were written in foreign characters. Surely a knowledgeable person would know whether they were Cantonese or Mandarin, but I was not that person and so could not answer that question when Bella asked it.

We walked through almost all of the shops, browsing for trinkets and knockoff handbags. Bella almost choked when she heard the listed price of a Swatch wristwatch, but I took over the deal and haggled the bewildered merchant down to only $10. Bella grinned up at me as I handed it over to her. I slung my arm over her shoulder with a laugh and guided her to the next shop as she slid it on.

Eventually we even found time to sit down at a dive restaurant on the outskirts of Chinatown for a late lunch. The area was shady, and I suspected that the diner had been robbed recently from the fearful looks of the help, but Bella and I occupied a booth in the brightest of areas and were polite.

I pleaded lack of appetite and sipped tea while Bella ordered sesame chicken. She decided quickly that it was inedible after biting into it, and so for the most part we drank tea and chatted idly. The closeness of our interaction was magnetic – there was a pull that I was unsure if she felt; I sure felt it and it was nerve-wracking because our boundaries had already been established at platonic friendship and I would probably scare her away, anyway.

It was past the time Edward had specified before we realized that we were late. I paid the tab while Bella called him with our location, but traffic was congesting so we had to walk several blocks before he could meet us. For a moment I stared, disorganized and unable to breathe as I panicked; then I remembered the way and moved forward as if there had been no stress in mind.

The sidewalks were unsettling with the masses of jostling bodies that had suddenly appeared; even Bella looked uncomfortable. My arms wrapped around my chest, I shouldered most of them out of the way before admitting defeat and tucking away into a shop entrance so Bella could catch up.

"Are you cold?" she asked immediately.

I had to look down to realize that my hands were still gripping the opposite elbows and that, yes, I _was_ shivering. I actually did feel chilled, but this sensation was more like a tremor running along some taut cable before the snap.

"I'm fine," I answered, shrugging her concern off.

"Okay, so where are we going?"

My brow scrunched together as I studied the streets, trying to remember the exact shortcut that would take us off Jackson street and up, around Kobe Terrace Park. I had spent enough time slumming around this city, hadn't I? I should _know_ this one.

"You do know, don't you?"

"Yeah." I sounded confident as I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. After another moment in which Bella probably decided that I _didn't _know, it came to me. "I've got it! Here – follow me."

My way was a network of back streets and connecting alleyways that were the hidden vein of Seattle. It could be dangerous at night, but during the day it was just dirty; unless you walked down the wrong path no hustlers or gang members would assault you – they kept to themselves.

We moved quickly, trying to keep parallel with the dragons that decorated the light posts running in and out of Chinatown. After a few minutes, the path took us perpendicular, though, and we turned away. My phone rang mid-turn and, when I answered, it was Edward.

"Are you taking the long way? Where are you two?"

"I'm trying to take a shortcut. Just hold on a minute will you?" I glanced at my phone as it beeped. The battery was gone. "Call you back. My phone's dying."

Edward cursed and the phone went silent. I shrugged, slid it into my back pocket, and turned to Bella to give her the latest news.

"Wow, he's punctual," she said.

"More like OCD," I growled. "Can you call him back and let him know… what road is that?" I pointed back toward the sign on the street. "I'm going to go ahead down _that_ way –" again I pointed toward the dingy alley "- and you can just catch up with me. I'll walk slowly."

"I really think we should stay in sight of the dragons, Jasper," Bella said. She was doubtful of my directions, of course. _Who wouldn't be if they did not know me?_

"It's the fastest way," I persuaded. "Trust me." No one could argue with my logic, not even Bella. She nodded dutifully and turned back, pulling out her phone and dialing as she went.

I stalked farther down the alley, not looking back, and turned left. Immediately, three things became clear to me: that I had gone one alley too far, that this was a dead end and that the four men loitering here were of my crowd. _Dealers_. I adjusted my stride and ducked into the grimy alley to meet them; my plans had been rearranged in the blink of an eye.

My feet kicked scattered debris as I tried to maintain my cool air, but inside my heart was pounding furiously and my heart was rejoicing. The dirty gray buildings on either side of me were heaped with trash and makeshift shelters; I recognized this as I passed by because I, too, had lived in such a place – if only briefly – and known this life. _God damn, it felt good to be back._

Me and the leader of the group shook hands warily. We judged each other like rival competitors; his henchmen formed a loose circle to contain me. I ignored them, except for the tall man who had his cheeks stuffed, and focused on the introductions.

So often, drug deals lacked any formality anymore. They were impersonal and cold like one night stands. That is why, for sake of friendliness, I make an effort with the scumbags.

"Jasper." I nodded.

"Felix," the leader grunted. His chalky pallor did not suit his natural complexion; it stood out more so than me, I thought.

"I'm looking to score a good time," I suggested, patting my arm to give him the nonverbal hint. Cops would say it aloud, but if you were smart you could get by that easily.

The deal was over quickly. Felix charged me an arm and a leg but gave me several balloons; the steam engine of a man spat them into my palm and poured a bottle of Mountain Dew over it to clear of his spittle. I grimaced but said nothing, simply relieved that I could swallow the evidence and be on my way.

"_Jazz?"_

My body froze. The others around me heard the voice as well, but how could they? It sounded like Rose… I could even hear the tremor in her voice as she woke in the hospital bed. If I pulled aside the veil of memory, I would be able to see her moist eyes and smell the salty tears – feel the guilt as she called out for me after what I had done.

"Jasper?"

_Bella. It was only Bella._

A great weight slammed into me, propelling me against the wall. I blinked and my vision cleared; the giant was staring me down, eyes murderous. One massive forearm blocked my throat with a crushing force so I could not breathe. I grappled against him, feet kicking off the ground as I fought. They thought I had brought backup.

There was a murmur of voices, and then I could hear Bella; she was still on the phone and her voice was worried. My gaze fell to the intersection of alleys, waiting for her to appear and willing her not to. If karma was any indicator…

A low hum of approval went up among the crew as Bella not only entered into view but turned our way. Her eyes scanned warily. I recognized the look – one of horror – the instant she saw us. Her mouth formed a silent "O" and she halted in her tracks.

"Is she yours?" purred Felix, "because I'm calling dibs right now."

"Don't you touch-" I tried to growl and choked. My muscles were tensed, getting ready, and I feared what was going to happen. Sooner or later this tension would snap me.

"I've got it," said one of the smaller men. He sauntered out to meet Bella.

_Bella._ Why wasn't she running? She was just watching! This would be the death of her, but why did she stand still?

She looked like a lost lamb, not truly understanding until he grabbed her and dragged her closer. Her resistance was meek and half-hearted. She looked at me, and all I could think was that she had not yet registered what I had gotten her into. _Shock. Disbelief. No panic yet._

"I'm sorry," I mouthed, but with her attention called by Felix, I do not know if she saw me. Despair gathered in my chest. _I am sorry._

Felix took Bella from the smaller man easily and backed her against the wall. He did not kiss her lips – he was not the kind of man who _would_ – as he slammed her into the brick. She gasped in surprise, finally getting his idea. _Was this how Rose felt? Was this what it looked like the last time I failed a woman I cared for? Not again!_

I gave up control; my body was a live wire conducting adrenaline. I gathered my rage and spit in my captor's face. As expected, he dropped me with a cry that brought the two extra running.

And that's when all hell broke loose.

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**E.N. So let me know what you are thinking. Subtle, not so subtle, awesome, too much, too little? I apologize to those of you who did not get review replies... and to the anonymous people questioning the direction of Jasper's relationships, I hope this helped you out! Reviews appreciated!**

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	28. When Hell Broke Loose

My apologies with any mistakes of grammar/syntax. Graphic violence depicted in this chapter. Took me one or two weeks - I don't remember - but this is the anticipated chapter No. 28. And I'm issuing one giant "Thank You!" to my lovely readers, those who put me on Alerts or Favs, and especially those who review!

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Intox 28

_And that's when all hell broke loose._

There were four men: Felix, the Giant, the smaller man and another with dark, red rimmed eyes. The numbers in the fight were unfair, even with Felix-

My body was a coiled spring. The speed with which I lunged at the Giant was unpredictable. Fear was no option and only rage fed me. I could not say what I _felt_, only that I wanted to _kill_.

I was on top of him, fists clenched and tendons bulging. Bones cracked beneath the weight of my blows – or perhaps it was cartilage – before he grabbed my shoulders and flipped me off him. He did not move after that.

I landed on my back and my breath went out of me in a _whoosh_. I floundered for breath as I scrambled to my feet long enough to throw myself at Felix from behind.

He fell forward, briefly pinning Bella against the wall, before flailing backward. Arms wrapped around his neck with all my strength, I held on tight and tried to strangle him while Bella sank into the mounds of black garbage bags in horror.

_She wasn't screaming. She wasn't running. Immobile, frozen, vulnerable._ It was too familiar for her own good.

"Bella, run!" I screamed. Felix slammed me into the opposite wall of the alley until my grip loosened enough for him to pull away.

"San, take care of him," Felix snapped to the red-eyed man waiting behind him. He smoothed his hair and readjusted his shirt before pausing to add, "I don't care how."

The man smiled wickedly and nodded, obedient to his end. He grabbed my shirt to pull me forward and I snapped. My forehead connected with the bridge of his nose hard enough for my vision to go black for several seconds; when I looked next he was sprawled on the floor, his face a lumpy mass of blood and spittle.

The smaller man was smarter. He came at me from the side wielding a knife that I just managed to dodge. The tip skimmed my right arm and was carried on by momentum as I wheeled around, seizing his wrist. He jerked to a stop and I used the force to incapacitate him. _Twist. Pull. Snap, crackle, pop... and there goes his arm_. He screamed loudly. I grabbed his head and bashed it against the concrete once; he shut up.

A pleading woman's voice echoed through my head like a skipping CD. My stomach clenched; I had taken too long – I had forgotten her. Though her voice was distorted by the film of red surrounding my conscious, it was sickeningly familiar. _Rosalie._

_Was it real? Was I hallucinating? Was I too late? Or was I in time to stop this?_

I slammed into the last man standing but only knocked into him and stumbled back. It hardly garnered his attention; his hands were wrapped around her ivory skin, turning it purple as he fumbled with her belt. Her bulging eyes stared back at me, pleading and accusing. Her hands clawed at him without effect.

I pounced again, clinging to the man's back with my legs as I dug my fingers into the tender areas of his face. _Eyes, nostrils, mouth_. I pulled back with as much force as possible, feeling nauseated as I felt his skin give way with a squelching, ripping sound, and rode him until he fell to the ground.

Fury and indignation lashed my nerves, sparking my senses. A car was approaching. I should run, but my muscles were clenched in this bloody grip and incapable of letting me escape.

"Rose, for God's sake, run!" I bellowed and, to my relief, she did. Clasping the ruins of her ripped shirt in front of her, eyes wide and lungs heaving, she scrambled to her feet and sprinted away.

Felix rolled his head back into my face before I could react. A surprised grunt came out of my mouth as my grip faltered and the roles were reversed. I was staring at a red-speckled sky, confronted with his swollen and mangled face, those bloodshot eyes and a maniacal grimace similar to what had to be on my face.

"I. Called. Dibs," Felix growled between heaving breaths.

"_Fuck you._" I spat.

He was a large man, very much capable of heaving me off the ground by the lapels. There was no supernatural strength about him; he was a fucking beast when enraged. I landed in a heap of rubble, listening to the tinkling of glass breaking and praying that I did not sever my femoral artery.

I heard footsteps approaching and crawled for solid ground, floundering through the garbage. The floor of the alley was strewn with bottles and broken shards; I nicked a finger and shook it off, spreading blood from the cut. My eyes searched for a clear place to face him.

I could not find it before he kicked me to the ground. Glass punctured my flesh. I shielded my face and held my tongue silent through the searing pain. He flipped me onto my back and landed a punch straight to my sternum that curled me into a ball, but I grabbed his bicep and tried to pry him off me anyway.

I should have gone for his face, but his next punch sent me sprawling. I gasped in a painful breath and held him at bay as I struggled for a weapon – just a piece of glass or pipe…

My fingers closed in on the neck of a bottle. Tires screeched in the distance, outside of my frame of thought, but it was loud enough to break Felix's concentration. He looked back and, when he did, I swung at him with all my strength.

Blood sprayed down on me, drowning my vision in hissing droplets. Felix gasped, gurgling, and clutched his throat as his body dropped. His face was drawn and pale – horrifically pale. When I met his eyes I only saw my confusion reflected. Neither of us had expected this.

I caught him and heaved him away from me in recoil. He clutched my arm when I scrambled to my feet; I yanked myself free of his crimson hands and snarled in indignation._ How dare he touch me with his bloodstained hands?_

"Jasper," he whispered, reaching for me again.

I screamed and kicked him in the gut. Blood splashed on my shoes and I screamed again, my rage turning to terror as he did not stop bleeding.

"Goddamn you, cock-sucking mother-fucking bastard!" I shouted. My stomach turned. "Stop _fuckin' bleedin'_!"

Felix stilled but his voice was still there and growing louder. I spun in place, dazedly, and looked for the voice's origin as I clenched my fists in my hair and held on for sanity. I could find his voice.

But I found a silver Volvo parked at the alleyway. The passenger's side window was open, and Edward was leaning over Bella's lap.

"Get into the car!" he shouted. "Out of the clothes!"

I hesitated. I did not want Bella to see my skin. She would recoil from me, I knew.

"Jasper," screamed Edward, his face livid, "get in _the fucking car!_"

I nodded to myself, breaking loose of the hypnotic hold brought on by spilling blood and low self esteem. My eye briefly caught the broken shards of a bottle, only neck intact what was stained with blood. I turned from it and ran, obediently pulling the shirt over my head as I neared the vehicle.

Bella opened the door for me and I dived in. I could not read her face or movements; my mind was skipping forward in choppy increments.

"Pants!" Edward shouted. The car was already in motion.

"I know, I know, I got it," I snapped back. My hands jerked to my hips, clumsily unfastening the buttons and zipper. I was hyperventilating, shaking. Bella watched, white-knuckled as I kicked my socks, shoes and pants off in the backseat.

I hated myself at that moment. I could have killed myself. I felt my heart being ripped apart, the painful constriction of agony. I wanted to bury myself in my own arms and implode into nothingness. My entire body trembled. Tears flowed.

Bella spoke in a voice that rose slightly at the end. "Ed_ward_…"

My brother cursed softly as we sped through traffic. "Get my phone, Bella."

… and then … and then I don't remember what happened next.

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And... Reviews are appreciated! Let's ponder what _does_ happen next, shall we?


	29. Tripping down Memory Lane

Intox 29

… _and then … _

My hands were dripping crimson. I studied them absently, watching the drips fall with inaudible _plunks_ to the gritty pavement below. No one would believe this was blood – it looked too similar to wall paint: it was too vibrant, too viscous, too room temperature to be _real_ blood.

Yet it smelt metallic. It smelt like real blood, like the taste of shiny pennies or keys or any number of things I had curiously put in my mouth as a toddler. It smelt like my first lost tooth and bleeding gums, like split lips and bloody noses, like clotted syringes or picked scabs.

The smell overwhelmed me. The sight was worse – was stained in my eyes, conjuring ironic thoughts of fire engines and shiny red apples, both of which reflected sunlight with a similar burnished glow. Everything was a background nuisance compared to the boldness in front of my eyes.

The alley should have some color to it, even a washed out pink from the bricks would be comforting. The dumpster should be green with yellow lettering on the sign. The beaten remains of the mattress should be pink with pale foam filling spilling out, but it isn't. I have a feeling that if I looked my own skin would be a shade of gray. Everything was a shade of gray.

The alley stank like stale urine and rotting garbage and mildewing surfaces, but all I could smell was blood. The smell of users was the smell of sickness and fear and desperation – it should be _my_ smell, too, but the air rushing through my nostrils in short, gasping bursts was salty and metallic.

My hands shimmered before my eyes and then my entire body jerked left. Sights and smells spun, converged, mingled, disappeared and reappeared without concept or reason. I felt nauseated and confused, but there were crackling phones and voices whispering in my head.

_"- an episode or something –"_

_"he's going to-"_

_"Bella, don't touch him!"_

_Crackling phone lines. Scent of leather and sandalwood and strawberries. Pain in my head – a splitting, splintering pain._

_… "a blanket. …work better…"_

My eyes settled. My stomach lurched but held; my heart still beat furiously. There was a rasping sound in the air. I scanned my gray alley for the source, my eyes drifting over silence and stillness uncomfortably while my ears picked up the deranged sound.

_Bad radio reception_, I thought. My eyes blurred with tears. _It sounds like static with the volume turned down, but it isn't._

I knew what it was. I wished I didn't – I wished I could keep my eyes closed and not remember or smell the antiseptic or feel the coarse cloth of the hospital chair's armrests under my fingers. I wished I could not hear the ventilators hissing in my ears.

I opened my eyes slowly. Tears were spilling down my cheeks; I could almost hear them splattering on the floor over my sniffling nose and wavering breath. The hospital bed shimmered in the low light. I blinked again and my vision steadied.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. My fists clenched into the armrest hard enough to break my fingernails. I wanted to touch her hand – comfort her – but was terrified that her skin would be as cold and unfamiliar as the machines that breathed for her. I was afraid that she would crack like an empty eggshell if I touched her.

The lights were dim, just nightlights above her bed. The room was full of soft shadows and, in one corner, bright slats of light leaking in from the hallway. Rose's face was wan beneath the swelling and bruises. It was also blank: no flutter of the eyelids, no twitching movement, nothing to provoke the emotions I was drowning in.

I was glad that I had the monitors to watch. The steady lines on the heart monitor were comforting; they beeped regularly, moved slowly and never faltered. The ventilator numbers changed frequently against the blue screen. In the top left corner were the letters CPAP, which supposedly meant that the machine would step in when my sister could not breathe on her own.

Every few minutes the screen would flash orange and the ventilators would pump, taking over. Every few minutes my heart clenched tighter; I pulled at my tangled mess of hair and screamed silently, not knowing why I was here and my foster family was on the other side of the wall, punishing me like this. _This was my fault._

"_What is he saying?"_

"_What's his fault? Something's his fault."_

"_We're almost there, Bella. Just – don't touch him!"_

"_He's going to hurt himself!"_

I wanted to vomit. My body hurt. Everything ached. My skin erupted with goose bumps and guilt and a cold sweat. I clenched my fists tighter, feeling the cut of fingernails against skin, and knocked my head against my bent knees. It shook my mind loose; the memory slipped and I kicked myself free.

"_-the fuck?"_

My gray alley was dirty. The dirt was splashes and misted dots. The splashes and dots were crimson. _Blood._

My feet were wet, but I was afraid to look. My lip trembled; I bit it to keep it still. I backed up, nervous eyes searching for policemen but finding none, and then I looked at my hands and saw what I was holding.

The bottle's neck was brown and wet red. Its edges were sharp serrated edges that made deadly weapons, not the blunt knock-you-out instruments of bar fights. It fit perfectly in my hand, though I had not known its true potential at the time. Smears of red fingerprints decorated the bottle and continued in large blotches up my dripping arms.

For a moment I believed I had cut my own wrists again.

My gaze refocused, however, and I saw the body. _Bleeding._ It bled a fucking arterial ocean of blood, even after death. I dropped the weapon and shook my head but was unable to convince myself as I stared.

"No fuckin' way I killed him," I breathed, recoiling from the drug dealer who still gripped my ankle. My footing gave way. I stumbled and fell backward with a scream; there was hardly time to twist and catch myself.

A blanketing weight landed on me, crushing me to the pavement. Panic whipped through me, spreading like electricity in every vein. I grappled with my attacker. The slivers of glass in my back dug in as I scraped against the black asphalt. I smelled sweat and fresh pavement and blood but only saw darkness.

"He's dead," I gasped in disbelief. The body relented and I flailed free of its dead grasp.

The weight fell on me again, and the two of us fought. No matter how hard I berated it, the tree-like limbs refused to let go. His breath was heavy with strain.

I used every resource from my past to struggle free of the grip but failed. With a knee pressed into the small of my back, he pinned me down.

"No," I tried to move but was stuck, like a fly to the wall. "No! He's dead! _He's dead!_"

"Jasper!" Strong arms wielding blankets wrapped around me. I registered the familiar scent.

"He's dead," I screamed aloud. My internal voice was skipping… _ohGodohnoGodohGodnohe'sdeadhe'sdeadhe'sdead…_ unable to depressurize, but I was already falling apart.

I gave up the fight as my heels dragged against the pavement. Emmett's strength was incredible. My body shook – perhaps from excess adrenaline – and the pressure in my head swelled; there was no chance I could throw him off me.

Emmett dragged me through the courtyard. Though I could not see, I felt the leaves and cobblestones scraping my feet. Ordinarily this was a beautiful place. Now, all the beauty in the world could not change the dead man bleeding out in some back alley in Seattle. Every time my eyes closed I saw it again, fresh and running freely through the cracks of my mind; by the time he let me stand on my own and see, I hardly could.

I was guided up the stairwell to the apartment. Emmett's arms pressed on my back, shouldering me forward. In between my ragged breaths I heard two pairs of feet treading the stairs, and I knew that Edward was taking care of Bella. _Why hadn't I made sure she was all right? Is she okay?_

The walls flew by and before I knew it Emmett was flinging the apartment door open. I cringed and balked, suddenly sensing that Rosalie was home. My eyes were wide.

"No," I said, pulling back.

Emmett wrestled me through the doorway. "C'mon, man," he huffed. "We're going to get you cleaned up. You'll be fine."

"_No._" He knew I was not objecting to the shower, of course. My soul constricted; tears gathered in my eyes again, and I shook my head to dispel the memories of the hospital room that kept resurfacing.

Curse him, my brother is strong. He hoisted me into his arms and brought me down the hall. I did curse him, actually. I screamed at him. I cried. I shouted. I struggled. I failed to make an effect.

I caught sight Rosalie's face as Emmett swept the two of us through the guest bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom. Her mouth was open, her jaw slack as she stared. One hand gripped the doorway; the other rested over her heart. She neither spoke nor moved.

"Rose, get clothes," Emmett barked. He dumped me into the bottom of the tub, and I willing stayed there, sobbing in the fetal position.

Emmett's massive shadow fell over me, but I could not bring myself to look at him.

"Hey, man, it's going to be okay," he said, placing one hand on my shaking shoulder. I closed my eyes tight and shook my head slightly. Nothing was going to be okay.

"We're going to run you some hot water," said Emmett, "and you can wash up a bit, and I am going to be right here."

I nodded, not trusting myself to open my eyes yet. I was afraid the blood smears on the porcelain would still be there.

Emmett turned the tap. Hot water lapped at my toes, slowly creeping higher until I could feel it washing over my ankles, my hip, my shoulder and, finally, my face. I inclined my face so the water wouldn't drown me and waited for the water to cover me so I could safely uncurl and enjoy the warm cocoon it wrapped me in.

I waited.

My hair swept around my face and neck in wisps. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, meditating on what it meant to be a murderer. My skin stung with thousands of cuts, and my muscles ached with deep-seated bruises. When I moved, my spine crackled.

I waited.

Muted conversations and stressed syllables were almost audible. I opened my eyes again and viewed the ceiling through a screen of hazy water; only my nose was above water. The water was cooling and I had not felt its comfort properly.

_Fuck it._

Sound roared back to me as I sat up, stood and wrapped a towel around my shoulders. Goosebumps spread across my skin and I sat on the lidded toilet seat, my boxers dripping and my teeth chattering. It should not be so cold – _life_ should not be so cold – but it was.

The voices, Edward and Emmett's, fell silent in the other room. I looked through the doorway and met their gazes warily as they froze in their seats. We listened to one another's breaths and contemplated whether I was still dangerous.

The tension was palpable.

I moved first, sliding to the bathroom door and, though Emmett moved quickly, slammed it shut before he could reach me. He roared at me and pounded on the door, which caused it to rattle in its hinges, but the lock was secure; I was safe.

The key… the key was on top of the shelf in the closet. _Not much time._ I shed my sopping boxers and exchanged them for the stack of loose clothing that was stacked neatly on the counter. Time counted itself in curses and shouts from the other side of the door – Rosalie was already feeling for the key – while my knees buckled and brought me to the floor in front of the toilet.

One hand pressed firmly against the wall beside the reservoir, one foot against the wall behind me, one knee supporting me, one second of hesitation… I shoved my fingers down my throat, eyes burning and watering as the gag reflex brought up the balloons in acidic, shuddering waves.

Disgust and desperation overwhelmed me as I felt around in the toilet bowl for my merchandise. I could not be separated from this – not after what I had done to get it. I rinsed them off in the fouled water and counted as I stowed them in my pants pockets. _Three._ I pressed the flush and rested my forehead against the cool porcelain with the scent of vomit only becoming worse the more I tried to swipe it away.

When I realized that my hand was covered in vomit also, I laughed. It was a sick sound that quickly devolved into tears. I sobbed, unaware of anything outside my own misery as I slumped over the toilet bowl.

And that was how they found me.

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E/N: My humble apologies for keeping everyone waiting so long. Life was overwhelming for a while through the month of October - I couldn't pull myself together enough to do anything in the real world, let alone the virtual one. This chapter was intended to be much longer (as it was intended to be much sooner), but circumstances have a curious way of changing that. My hope is that what IS written is an eye-opener and some cause for discussion: a lot of what is written is very oriented in Jasper's past.

Nobody tell me anything about New Moon; I haven't had a chance to go see it yet. Admittedly, I am afraid of the screaming fangirls - I just want to enjoy the film in solitude. I hope that you DO review for me, however. Let me know what you think about this chapter and the story so far.

And to all of the new FAVs and Alerts and reviews that I have not responded to or acknowledged, I do appreciate your attention to these stories. Thank you for keeping in touch and I hope to hear from you (ALL) very soon! =D


	30. the Alaska era

Intox 30

I slept and, for the longest time, I walked in nightmares. Blood coated surfaces and a stabbing, nameless dread turned the dreamscapes of my mind into a surreal wasteland of agony. A thousand times worse than any hallucination I'd ever endured, the dreams refused to let me rest.

Bergamot and jasmine pulled me slowly from unconsciousness in a soft blend of perfume. I drifted, waking with enough clarity to sense that I was indeed returning to the real world. The world of illusions and terror had been left behind.

I was warm, wrapped in a thick blanket and lying on a soft bed. The humming melody of a song my mother used to sing unnerved me enough to stir, and once I did I recognized Rosalie's fingers combing softly through my hair.

"Rose." My voice was almost dead. The words came out in a hoarse groan.

Her fingers hesitated, frozen in shock or pain or memories – I don't know which. My sense of time was distorted; I could not tell how long she had been with me and why there was now silence when there had been other voices before. How long had she been here alone with me and our past?

"Is Bella okay?" _Did I just say that?_

It hurt to say Bella's name, but realistically Rose already knew what had happened out there in the alley. It should hurt my sister more than it hurt me.

Her fingers returned to their absent work on my tangled hair. "She's shaken up and taking it hard, but Edward and Emmett are with her in the living room."

"Oh, God," I moaned, burying my face against her. "It's my fault. I'm sorry, so sorry."

I knew all the things that were being discussed – had to be discussed – because of me. My body shuddered. I clung to my sister with the ferocity of a shadow, wanting both to protect and be sheltered, and she wrapped her arms around to draw me in; we were alone in our bubble of shared horror as the past came to life again down the hall in one spewing story that I can sum up now to save you the time down the road:

When Rose and I were fifteen, we lived in Alaska. Sophomores in high school up there. Rosalie worked at an all-night dive, usually pulling the late shift until some ungodly hour so she could make more money from the cretins that inhabited the joint, and I – I had fallen in with some disreputable friends. I did not work. I stole.

The cops had picked me up several times already – nothing serious, though. Loitering, vandalism and other vagrant activities; they never knew about the smalltime boosts me and the guys did for pocket change and spending money.

I had known one of these friends from the old days when I trolled around Dallas with the riffraff and avoided getting taken back to my foster parents; Pete had headed for the frozen expanses well before me and been easy enough to look up since he was in the phone book and over eighteen. We began chumming about and after little-to-no persuading, I met up with his new crew to loiter and smoke cigarettes. They were all very amused at my age, and I suspect that Pete never told them about our wonderful adventures back in Texas. It was okay, though, because by then I was crashing at Pete's derelict flat on the gutted sofa and committed for another long haul of debauchery.

For a time I was loose and free from Carlisle's roof and Alice's worrying. Giddiness bubbled from my heart and refused to be suppressed. When something got in the way of the rush I removed it from my path; having already moved out, I stopped going to school – detention was getting old, anyway. But Rosalie was _never_ one of these things, and I made sure to stop in to drink coffee and eat apple pie every Saturday night at the old chrome shack where she waitressed.

I _loved_ my sister. Sometimes I helped her serve trays of food to the truck-driver types – especially after they'd made some lewd comment – and I always spat in their food for her because she just couldn't. When they left second-rate tips I threw in my own money to the pot and made sure she never slid it back into my pocket at some point. It was always quality sibling time, just the two of us, and we rarely talked about anything about Alaska-home or Texas-home or any home in between the two.

I caught heat from the crew, all of whom were too hard of men to spend one night a week squandering illgotten money on crappy coffee and tipping their waitresses, but never with Pete. He seemed to understand the twin relationship, even if he wasn't one himself, and sometimes he welcomed my nights out so he could make it with his girlfriend Charlotte.

It is easy to see where I went bad but less simple to know the when. I suppose ever since I was little, really, and definitely after the hospital. A turning point for sure was the night I met Charlotte's friend… I met _her._

She was luscious, just in on a visit from the old town, and delighted to see a young kid like me with the older crowd. She was only seventeen herself but swayed like a woman and curved in all the right places. Her eyes were liquid, melting, and her pink lips were full against a smooth cocoa complexion.

I'm not getting into it in narrative. With her eyes on me, she moved in and decided to make camp because of our smashing crowd. The one thing, she lamented, was our lack of fun – by which, of course, she meant H. It was her habit and soon to be mine, too.

And my shaky knowledge of the scumbuckets of the city was to be my "in" and my beginning in a great many things and also how it came to be that I did not make it to the diner that fateful evening to see my sister or walk her home like I usually did.

And _that_ I cannot talk about.

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_E/N: So... it's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry for the delay. This chapter is kinda an awkward one; I didn't know for sure where to go from there. I have it figured it out, though, and so the next chapter will start off with a brief wrap-up to keep on with the story. Not only was I mad busy, but I also had some personal stuff to work through. Meh. It's all in the head. I hope you enjoyed, and PLEASE let me know your thoughts! Especially all you 100+ (can it be that many?) who have this story on Alert. I'll respond to all this time. Promises._


	31. Spawning an Aftermath

Intox 31

By the time I walked into the living room late that night Edward had left to drive Bella home. Emmett was on the phone with a buddy of his who was going to law school, planning a good defense for me no doubt. I curled myself into a ball on the couch and stared at the city lights, my body crying in pain and desperate want until Rosalie gave me a glass of water and some ibuprofen.

I expected to be hauled to the police station and beaten by screaming police officers until I vomited, just like Alex DeLarge, but no one showed up at the door with a warrant. Rose and Emmett scanned the television for news of the incident but found nothing. At some point I dozed and woke to my sister speaking with Carlisle; nobody matching the assault had shown up at a hospital in Seattle.

It was as if the crime had never happened – except it had. My heart palpitated, my lungs wouldn't fill properly and if I'd never experienced any form of withdrawal I would have suspected a heart attack. My medication was wearing off, and the restless muscles and tremors soon faded, leaving me sick with nerves instead of Olanzapine.

That night I dreamed of Maria for the first time in months. It was a time of nightmares and ugly memories, and I woke with moist eyes. I was a user - was always a user - and I wanted my identity back more than ever. I lay still, immobilized by guilt and self disgust, until Emmett came to wake me.

"C'mon, little bro," he said. "Carlisle is picking you up in forty-five. You've got to eat."

I forced myself up, joints cracking, and nodded wearily. When Emmett opened his mouth to speak I held up a hand to interrupt. _"Coffee."_

He grinned and led the way to the kitchen. I sat at the counter and rested my head in my arms with a groan. The skin on my back flexed uncomfortably; I thought it would break open again.

Emmett handed me a mug of miserable black java, something that would not existed to be properly called coffee had Rose been around. I took a sip and held back the imminent grimace that his coffee-making skills necessitated. He made terrible coffee. _How had I forgotten that? _

For all of his lacking skills, Emmett loved the food he cooked. No one else could stomach it, of course, but that was probably part of the allure. Whatever he cooked became strictly his own almost immediately once Rose or some other innocent bystander had a taste.

He savored his coffee while I choked it down, and neither of us spoke. He pulled eggs and sausage from the refrigerator, humming the theme from "The Brady Bunch," and proceeded to turn the skillet on high.

I had to intercede. It was too much to watch the breakfast massacre unfold before my eyes. Traumatized by the spices he had assembled for egg application, I sidled over to the stovetop and took over in behalf of my stomach.

"Why don't you step aside, son, and let a master do the work?" I said with a smirk.

He quirked an eyebrow and took a seat to let me save the food.

…

I sat, huddled in on myself, and glared at Dr. Andalano through watery eyes. Neither of us spoke, whether from stubbornness or lack of words could not figure out. My stomach was sick from the knots it was spinning; I wished fervently that my foster father was here to hold my hand and talk me through this instead of waiting in the lobby like I had told him to. Why did he _listen _to me?

My shoulder itched. I scratched it.

Andalano stared, thumbs twiddling. I'd never known people actually did that.

I tapped my heel against the oaken chair leg.

The doctor ran one plump hand over his stubbly jowls.

I ruffled my hair and winced as I caught a scab. Dr. Andalano stirred in his chair. It was time to speak.

"What do you want me to say?" My voice was a mumble yet he heard it clearer than I had.

"Just tell me the truth, Jasper."

I shuddered and wrapped my arms tighter around my chest. I had a clear image of myself – lanky, scrawny, messy, bruised, collar bones protruding under the stress – running through my imagination next to the memories of who I'd been. My eyes burned.

"What about illegal stuff – you know, "Soprano's quality stuff?" I asked with a sniffle. He looked almost offended.

"You don't think your father pays me so much money to call the police, do you?"

I didn't have the energy to argue, so I shrugged. "Guess not."

He leaned over the desk and gave me a hard look that I could not meet for the longest time.

"I lost my temper," I admitted finally. Then, after a pause, "I don't remember. Emmett and Rose-" My voice faltered at her name. My jaw clicked under the tension.

"Go on," he said. "I'm listening."

My lips curved into a smile briefly, and then my rambling story poured out in earnest like it had never _ever_ done before.

…

Telling someone what actually goes on inside your head is exhausting. Inside my brain, time jumps, places are transposed and lines blur. It can be hard to differentiate reality from perception and emptiness from detachment. Maybe my saving grace is that I'm aware of how fucked up I am.

After my impromptu appointment with the doctor, we stopped at the hospital. I arrived home with trudging steps and several batches of prescriptions, which were rattling softly from the inner pocket of Carlisle's windbreaker.

Alice was at the door when we entered at dusk, her small frame alive with a frantic energy that she was desperately trying to conceal. She enveloped me in a gentle hug before tentatively touching the swollen site where Carlisle had injected me with battered strains of tetanus only an hour before. Her warm eyes stared up at my bruised face in silent question that I did not have the energy to answer aloud.

Carlisle passed us and padded up the stairs. I could hear him and Esme head to the privacy of their room. I stared after him, dazed and too emotionally drained to think.

"Jazz, what happened?"

I shook my head. If I spoke my voice would break. As it was, my head was cracking and my body ripping into bleeding shreds. I breathed a single word – _sleep_ – because that is the only thing I could think to counteract the relentless spinning in my head.

Alice understood me too well. She nodded sympathetically, held my hand and led me up the stairs to bed. Her eyes were softening but still anxious; I wanted badly to say something – anything – to make her feel better. Instead, I fell into bed and lay there like a dead man.

"Jazz?" Her hand rested lightly on my back, but the wince came anyway. She jerked away, hurt, and I exhaled a massive breath.

"Allie," I groaned into my pillow, "I'm sorry." A hiss escaped me as I pulled up my shirttails and exposed the network of fierce cuts. "It just really stings."

"Will you ever tell me what happened?" _Resignation didn't suit her._

"Of _course_," I lied, even managing to turn enough to look her in the eyes. I would never actually tell Alice what happened, of course. _How could I do that to her? _

How could I ever look her in the face and tell her that I was a murderer?

* * *

E/N: Oh, Lord, is there anybody out there? If you are still reading, I love you! No, I don't know when the next update is - I am having wicked trouble with some of my classes this semester and am trying (keyword is trying) to pass them so I don't waste the $$$ for credits. This chapter isn't what I thought it would be, either, which is an epic bummer - but at least it exists and all I have to do is write chapter 32. Eh? Reviews, please!


	32. The Effects of Moping

Intox 32

I moped for two days, and for once they let me. To get a picture of what that means, imagine lying in bed until your limbs atrophy and your pores ooze concentrated body odor. Disheveled, stubbly, stuporous from fasting and insomnia… Jasper Hale.

My room slowly filled with a haze of cigarette smoke, a ghastly stale aura that even I noticed, though I did nothing about it. I lay atop sweat-stained blankets and smoked wordlessly, never quite enjoying the taste on my tongue but lusting after the ghosting buzz I no longer felt. My headboard was quickly dotted with burn marks; my bed filled with ashes and my floor became choked with littered cigarette butts.

Sunday night, when I first arrived home, Alice had been by my side. She had left on Monday, unwillingly, to return to school, and I made no effort to remove myself from bed. The extra time away would cost me, but I wasn't going to graduate anyway so it made no difference.

On Monday evening I heard Alice and Edward speaking as they passed my door. Bella had been absent from school, presumably sick, and had requested notes. _Typical Bella._

"I'll just go drop these off then." Edward's voice faded down the hall, but his failed attempt at being nonchalant rang in my head. I grimaced, my hands momentarily balling into fists, and then, with a pang, I remembered the lit cigarette in my hand.

This pain was nothing new. I thought of the small scars grouped near my clavicle before I pried my hand open and made sure the ember was out. It was, and I swiped gingerly at the swollen, ashy flesh of my palm. It oozed and ached and was eventually ignored as the patterns on my ceiling became too enchanting to resist.

I got out of bed on Tuesday – just long enough to stumble blearily into the bathroom and do my business. It was midday, but I caught a glimpse of Esme watching me from the end of the hall as I trudged back to bed. She was usually at DSS – should be there today but wasn't.

I suddenly felt sick with myself. It was horrible, knowing that she had given herself up to watch over a sulking addict with emotional issues. There was no reason for this – no reason beyond my selfishness, my disgusting self pity.

I returned to the bathroom after an hour of bitter debate and showered. I did not shave. I found the impossible possible, and for once grieving alone was distasteful. I feared – for myself, yes – but for Bella. Her innocence, trust and naivety of the world… How badly had I tainted her?

Thirty minutes later, after hastily drying myself in a fluffy towel (I think it was Edward's, actually), I shuffled into Esme's room where she sat at her writing desk. I was the prodigal son, repentant down to my wringing hands and nervous step.

The walls were a creamy shade off white; the curtains subtly matched both the floor rug and the hidden accents. The energies were positive, engaging and wholesome.

Esme looked up immediately with a weary smile that crinkled the thin lines around her eyes. Her voice was tender as she spoke:

"Jasper."

Eyes welling, I stumbled forward and flung myself at her feet. I buried my face in her lap and clung to her. She held me gently, the soft fingers running through my straggly hair without nicking a single cut or knot. And, true to her deep understanding of me, Esme let me weep.

Rain eventually gives way to somber clouds, and so my tears eventually ceased. I could not lift my head – even long after the tears had dried. My soul was too heavy.

Esme moved first, lifting my chin so she could look into my eyes. She gazed into them searchingly as I sat mesmerized by the overwhelming compassion within her. Her eyes picked through my soul completely, cleanly, and then she straightened.

"Go see her," she said. This was her Mother Voice – the one which would not be denied. "I'm sure she's as upset as you are, Honey."

"But I'm not –"

"I'll let you drive your own car."

My jaw dropped. My car? _My car. _The green bird, which I'd sentimentally named Phoenix, was a handmedown circa 1976. My dad – my _real_ dad – had left it to me in his will when I was three. The tarnished St. Christopher medal he'd worn around his neck still hung from the review mirror.

I waited patiently while Esme unlocked the wall safe and retrieved the keys. I wondered whether the car still ran; I'd only driven it the one time.

We uncovered the tarp together, and my car came free in a cloud of dust. I slid into the driver's seat, admiring the dull glow of worn leather and lingering scent of cigars. Nostalgia struck as I inhaled, wiping me back to my earliest memories… sitting on my pap's lap as we cruised through oblivion and dry Texas heat.

After a moment, I recovered myself and rolled down the window. Esme handed me the keychain – a double-looped strip of fencing wire bent into a series of rosebuds – with a kiss and stood back. The car rumbled out of the garage like a panther. I felt a ghosting smile touch my face as I turned the steering wheel toward the road that eventually met Bella's house.

The orange truck sat in the driveway as I pulled in. My stomach clenched; if I'd eaten, I would have wished I hadn't. Forcing deep breaths, I trudged up the drive, unsure what to make of the roil mess of emotions within. The dented fender of her truck stood out to me, a perfect shoulder print that matched me; I paused momentarily and popped the dent out before continuing.

The floorboards creaked underfoot. I paused for a breath, listening to the wooden boards protest my shifting weight, before knocking loudly. A sense came over me and grew stronger, something intangible and unidentifiable, and after thirty seconds I realized that it was Bella approaching from the other side of the door.

_Thirty seconds._ My body ached, my mind churned, my heart fucking lurched. Yet, when the door swung open and I caught myself in her puffy red eyes, it all disappeared. A whirling void of radiant light spun where my jumbled thoughts had been before. For a moment we stared, and then I tried to speak.

"Bella…"

She turned, leaving the door open as she led the way into her kitchen. It was time to talk.

* * *

_Yep, it's been a while. I'm leaving on vacation tomorrow... two weeks in the southern hemisphere! Thanks to those of you who've stuck with me this long; I appreciate it! =D And, as always, please review!_


	33. Pt 2 A Twist of Fate

Intox 33

She turned on me as soon as I entered the kitchen, and her rage was confused by tears. I took a step backward, unsure, and frightened and… and excited. My blood boiled.

How…" she couldn't find the correct words but struggled on. "How _are you_?" Her voice was angry.

"What?" _Confusion._ I stared.

"I want to know if you're okay!" she screamed. Tears streamed down her face, turning her face into a streaky mess. If I wasn't so scared of her, she would have been adorable. _What was she thinking?_

My options… Shout, scream, silence, sincerity… I stepped into the room and leaned against the wall. "I'm fine, Bella," I said, playing with the car keys, which suddenly felt one hundred pounds.

She was in my face. "You weren't at school!" A pointed finger jabbed me in the chest and a surge of anger lashed through me that I barely held back.

"Neither were you." For a moment she'd almost provoked me; I dropped my keys onto the counter, shrugged. I was still unable to tell what she was getting at.

We paused and stared at each other silently. Finally, she took a dignified breath and spoke,

"I can tell when you're _lying_, and if I'm not fine, neither are you."

"Don't fucking tell _me_ what I am," I snapped.

"Don't walk all over me, goddamnit," she snarled. "I know this is my fault. I'm _sorry_, okay?"

"You, you – _what_?" She was apologizing. Leave it to Bella to severely misinterpret the situation.

"I shouldn't have been there – I shoul've –"

"Bella –" My fists clenched hard enough to cut my palms.

"I could have run, you know; I felt something was _wrong_-"

"_Bella_-" I growled.

"-and if it hadn't b-been for what _you did_, I-I don't even want to think about it. You saved my life-"

"Can you shut the fuck up?" I shouted. "Please!" She stopped abruptly, as if I'd slapped her in the face. Metaphorically, of course, I had.

"I'm not some saint; don't treat me like one! Em told you, didn't he, about what I've done?" I stalked to the counter and compulsively arrange the cups. I saw a purple mug, coffee still lingering at the bottom, with a little picture of Child Bella grinning in a field of cacti, and picked up for a brief analysis. My hand slammed it down roughly.

She stepped forward gingerly, as if confronted by a lion and looked into my eyes – a piercing gaze that I avoided.

"He told me about Rose," she affirmed and I trembled with anger. "And he said you carried you guilt like an anchor, Jasper. You are _so_ guilty about not being there for her, but it's in the past now-"

"Shut up! Don't pretend like you understand!" I hurled the purple mug against the far wall. It smashed into pieces behind her and we both stared, shocked and enraged.

"You're right," she whispered, subdued. "I don't."

"Bella, I am not a good person. I've told you before," I warned, unable now to look anywhere but into her tearful eyes. They were tragic. I brushed the tears from her face with the palm of my hand so I would not have to see them. My hands were dry, rough. For a moment my mind blanked and we stared…

I kissed her, my lips crushing down violently. My hands were tangled in her hair, recklessly caught. I pulled her close, senselessly tight, and was surprised to feel her body respond to me – returning the kiss earnestly – as we spiraled across the room in a blind effort to be closer to each other.

Her hands were on my back, fingers gripping me, pulling me in, insisting that I not retreat. _Come, _they commanded, _come be closer to Life – to Invigoration and Real Living. This is the essence of Being!_

I obeyed the call. A whole new brand of intoxication snarled my senses, flooding my blood with _feeling_ rather than numbness. I nearly swooned with the wonder of it – this previously missing feeling that had been missing in the slums, in the streets, in Maria.

This was my first act of defiance against Maria. It was my own personal brand of heroin. It was my new intoxication. It was, for lack of flashier term, Bella.

Our lips separated and returned, breathless, as our bodies obeyed the push-and-pull tide of nature. It was beautiful yet savage, spiritual yet coarse – bluntly physical. I didn't remember hoisting her onto the counter, but she was there with her legs wrapped around my hips; we had scattered dishes and appliances in our wake. Her hands were ghosting down my chest, and my body shuddered, wanting and fearing her fingers against my scar-streaked skin. My hands grasped her hips and dared not move upward, though I could imagine the creamy skin that awaited my lacking courage.

I almost didn't hear the cruiser's door shut. A few seconds later it clicked in the back of my mind what I'd heard. Bella froze with me, suddenly alert as we heard boots clicking up the stairs. Her eyes widened and, within an instant, she had shoved me back and thrown herself to the other side of the kitchen. I stumbled, slipped, caught myself on a piece of ceramic shrapnel as I grabbed the counter. Remarkably, she was unscathed by the acrobatics.

"_Fuck!"_ I shouted, unable to stop myself, as Chief Swan walked through the kitchen door.

It only took an instant for his trained eyes to survey the scene. I know what he saw, too. First, he saw me, one of his least favorite people in the state, cursing and bleeding in a field of shattered ceramics. Then he saw his daughter, red-faced and puffy-eyed, breathing heavily on the other side of the room. He must have noted the coffee stains on the wall and the disorganized jumble of dishes on the countertops. Silverware that I hadn't noticed before scattered on the ground.

"Jasper Hale," he growled, "leave my house. Now."

"Dad-"

_"Bella!"_ he barked. She quieted instantly.

"Oh, Jasper," he said as I backed out of the room, "if you walk off that porch without permission, I will arrest you. Do you understand?"

I nodded quickly, head reeling, and stumbled out of the house. He meant business. If there was no evidence, he would surely find it. I didn't understood it – never had known of fatherly protection this fierce. _Even when it was from Carlisle._

I paced the wooden floorboards, hands shaking, and caught fragments of the shouting match going on indoors. Most of it was Chief Swan. Most of it was about me; most of it was negative. None of it could keep my mind from spinning out of control into confusion, fear, panic.

_Me… Bella… what did it mean?_ _Had I forced it? Was this my fault? What would she do – I _had_ just finished screaming, too…_

She would agree with her father, tell him I had almost attacked her, have me arrested (and no one in my family would be surprised, really). I would go to jail, confess to uncommitted crimes, meet the jail's Big Daddy – who would either make me his bitch or turn me over to the dogs – and by the time I was released, my life would be spent, my health drained and body ruined by years of smuggled drug abuse. It wasn't an attractive prospect, but I braced for it.

My body flinched as Chief Swan stepped outside; my body reacted recklessly, and I jerked into the porch railing. He scowled, deep ridges forming on his forehead. With a stiff motion, he ordered by back inside; I complied immediately.

Bella was seated at the table already. We exchanged a complementing look of dread as I took my seat across from her and inclined my body toward her father. Whatever was happening was just beginning, and it promised to be rough.

"Bella tells me that she threw the mug at _you_, so I won't challenge her," he said, glancing over to his daughter.

"Sorry, Jasper," she whispered, a slight blush creeping across her downturned face.

I gave her a warm smile – well, as warm as any smile of mine could be – and chided myself on being so conspicuous.

"She told me that you two are friends," he struggled around the wording and continued, "and, contrary to what her actions would suggest, she _doesn't_ hate you."

I stared. Bella wouldn't meet my eyes – couldn't see the bewilderment in them. I stared, nevertheless. For a moment my paranoia was quiet and I could appreciate what was happening; the subtle movements of emotion through time, the gentle rhythm of the house around us, even the air quivered like I'd never noticed before.

The silence ended and Chief Swan spoke again, with more finality than before. "Jasper, I _never_ want to come home to this again; understand that you are not allowed to be alone with my daughter. _Ever._"

I opened my mouth and closed it several times before deciding on silence. My eyes widened as I sensed the tense threat in the air.

"Got it?" he said.

I nodded heartily, eyes still wide.

"Alright, good," he said and, for a split second, I saw a smile twinge across his stern face. "Now, I think you should run on home before I realize you're driving with a suspended license in a car with expired tags. Don't you?"

I started and cursed myself for forgetting that he knew about my license – had been responsible for that, actually. "Oh! Yes sir, I'll be on my way now."

I jumped to my feet, said a quick goodbye to Bella in front of her dad and fled the house. There would be more questions inside that house after I left: hard, piercing questions that Bella didn't need to be confronted with. As I sparked the ignition and rolled out of the drive, I wondered what exactly he would ask and whether it would be enough for her to guess the truth about me.

I am cold, cruel, calculating. I am a bastard, a murderer, a user. It's how I survive in the gutter that is my life. The only question I have is _will I drag her down into the gutter with me?_

A/N: Hey everybody who is still with me! Thanks for your continued reading! I had a heck of a summer: June in Belo Horizonte, Brasil... July 4th in Kansas City... and a weekend roadtrip to Boston with not nearly enough money or sleep to make it! Leave me a review; ponder the storyline so far and try to guess the future! haha!

See you on the next update! =)


	34. Dinner Party

**Previously: After the disastrous weekend, Jasper spent days holed up inside his room until Esme gave him the keys to his personal car - a car he's rarely driven and for good reasons. He visited Bella, the object of his admiration, and was confronted by her. They kissed. Chief Swan ordered Jasper to leave, and thus the story continues...**

* * *

Intox 34

It's an intense night at home. Things are heated before I even get there; Edward has been home already, pacing and raving, for an hour while Alice watched for me through the window. I pull in the drive as Carlisle is stepping out of his car, and I see the contented day-went-well smile slip from his face as he walks toward me.

I don't notice him banging on the driver's side window or trying to open the door once I've killed the engine. My mind is far gone, off in a mist of emotions to dense and tangled for me to sort. I stare at the steering wheel, waiting for it to pop and shrivel and writhe under my piercing gaze; I stare so hard that the patterns begin to swirl and hypnotize me.

Still the far off thumping… I have to cock my head to hear it. My hand is gripping the car keys – the metal key chain – too tightly. There is no circulation in my fingers. I can hear my thudding heart and wavering breath too clearly, and it makes me queasy. It makes me afraid and my nerve to be in this car, to hold the keys, to drive and pretend that this death trap doesn't scare me… it fails.

I fumble wildly for the door handle and panic because I've forgotten that it is locked. Carlisle takes a step back to give me room- lets me fall from the car in a haphazard jumble of limbs. He tries to help me up when he catches the ripe smell of phobia emanating from me but is shoved away and there I am, gulping for breath. I want to die, to laugh, to scream, choke, to vomit, to hide, cry, smile, eat, sleep, to calm, breathe, quiet, to stop shaking and gasping…

I vomit.

Carlisle's hand grips my shoulder and I his hand, and we both stand together. He wobbles under my weight and I almost go reeling again; my body has stretched and cracked and reopened almost at once every wound I'd forgotten about. I bleed small, weeping drops and almost hit the ground again. The keys drop from my hand.

All this happened, really, in an instant. Edward is only halfway across to us, eyes flashing dangerously, and Esme and Alice are still watching from the porch. It seems like my breathing will never be under control; I grip Carlisle harder as the dizziness threatens to pull me down.

We walk forward and then Edward has my other shoulder and it's more them carrying me than me walking. I feel weak. I feel relieved to be so far from the car.

"I can't believe you drove your car," mutters Edward from my right. I'm surprised when his tone is more reverent than wrathful.

"Didn't even crash this time," I pant between short breaths, trying to make him laugh despite this tense situation. My fear still has not gone away.

We go inside and eventually I can breathe. Esme locks my keys away again and she and Edward go finish dinner while Carlisle pats ointment onto the cuts on my back: no one is allowed to see this.

"You aren't allowed to drive. You know that." His quiet voice is stern, so stern. "Where did you go?"

He doesn't put Band-Aids on but dabs at my back with cotton wads. I see that they are coming away too red. I must have thin skin.

"How bad is it?" I ask.

"It won't scar," he replies, knowing how insecure I am with all the silver lines and cigarette burns already announcing to the world that I was a freak show. I haven't taken my shirt off around anyone but him (and then only because he's my doctor) since Maria. Four – or was it five? – years ago.

"I went to Bella's house." And that was the truth.

"You remember about your appointment tonight, though?"

_Nope. I didn't._

"Do I have to go?"

"He's coming here for dinner."

I groan, stomach churning again when I remember the meeting we had in which he forbid me from "involving an innocent in the twisted play of existence that was my mind". This is one of those therapy family evenings – ones where you pretend he's a normal guest or, more awkward still, not there at all; he may even stand in the corner wearing a lampshade and trying to conceal his gelatinous figure while we eat our lentils. The thought makes me feel better; start to laugh.

I'm at my corner nook in the kitchen, still laughing, when Dr. Andalano walks through the door. Alice is sitting by me, grinning at what I've shared with her about my psychiatrist. Our heads are together, real conspiratorial-like, when I first notice him in the room and straighten. Alice has known the whole time, of course.

She hops up and greets him by his first name with a kiss to the cheek before scuttling away with a stack of porcelain plates. I wait, watching after her, straining to hear the crash but there is nothing but animated chatter in the other room. Surely such a heavy load would have toppled over such a petite frame.

He and I don't speak. As if there was anything to be said. He's my doctor and I'm his patient and we're tense because he's on _my_ turf, diagnosing me (again) based on a new series of interactions. I'm' his patient, diagnosed, suffering, medicated. Everything in proper order.

Dinner is a lemon-parmesan risotto, light salad and heavily-layered spinach-mushroom lasagna. A pitcher of iced water condensates on the table. We have bread and a vinegar-oil solution to dip it in; it's the way Esme grew up, I guess, that dictates the various foods we eat and what we dip them in.

I don't think I've ever discussed the family dynamic of our table. Let me do that. Let me paint you a picture like I'm _the _fucking Caravaggio:

The six of us sit around a honey-wood table built for eight like this: Carlisle at the head, Esme to his right, Alice by Esme, me by Alice, space, Dr. Andalano sitting across from me, space, Edward to Carlisle's left. It's all very awkward that a house guest sit so far from the head of the table. I am tensed, so ready to spring, so ready to say something that the tendons in my neck flex in and out of view.

The design of the scene is simple, with no curlicues or engraving on a simple table for simple food. The chandelier hanging from the high ceiling glows warm light (not a garish crystalline glare) and everything looks appetizing. If I could've stomached eating it, that is.

Edward releases us from the canvas when he asks the Doc what he'll be having. He takes his plate and starts hacking at the lasagna and chatting about his day; I can't help but stare at the molten cheese – to watch the smell hit me like a kick to the balls. I almost dry heave at the table. Alice is already pouring iced water into my glass. I want to curl up, scream, vomit, die. I am silent.

We pass plates to Edward or Esme and receive generous portions in return; during the shuffle I swap plates with Alice to get a smaller amount. I can't eat it – can't do it – can't touch it – can't smell it, even… I take a sliver of mushroom and work it around, forcing myself to chew despite the slimy texture and tomato-stained dirt smell. I pick through the food, trying to find something and eating nothing.

Conversation begins all at once in soft voices. This is our dinner table; the only time there is yelling is when I speak. I am silent.

Alice sets the mood quickly with a tangent about Olympic deforestation decimating the local wildlife. This, among many other things, is her passion. She goes on nature hikes, volunteers with the local hippie tree huggers whenever possible and would camp out in the treetops with them, too, if the dark didn't trigger such violent night terrors. Because she is such a phenomenal artist, her job is usually to accurately record plants and animal interactions; she does it faithfully, the Roosevelt elk jumping across enormous logs and right out of the sketch book.

She asks Andalano what his opinion is on logging, this one pertinent question outweighing the rest of the dinner conversation. I find myself looking up from mutilating my food. I want to know whether he's going to dismiss this as a childlike display or take her seriously. I want an excuse to speak.

"I think logging is essential to the local economy and an important industry," he says. I wince and bide my time, just waiting for Ali to rip him a new one, but he continues. "That said, traditional methods are _terrible_ for the ecosystem and are unsustainable in the long run for business. New techniques need to be used, like what's being done in the Redwoods."

She's taken aback immediately – he's hit on three major points to her spiel – but then leans forward excitedly. Their conversation takes off, effectively separating me from the other side of the table where Edward is discussing some hall-monitor-man shit, prepping to dig into me once there's silence.

As my mind retreats into the fog again the expression on my face dissolves into one of incomprehension. I'm now watching life like I watch television, but I'm so paranoid it's noticeable that I have to move. I lean around Alice for a chunk of bread; she hands it to me before I can outstretch my hand. I drop out of touch again and nibble absently on the plain bread.

Aside from the mushroom, it ends up being the only thing I eat.

After dinner, Edward and Alice seem to melt away. The rest of us are sitting in the kitchen; I find myself trapped between Esme and Andalano, trapped in the corner nook that is usually my haven. My muscles twitch. Stress, want, _need_… Bella, heroin… it's all mixed up in there, whirling around and driving me insane.

This is where the dinner party gets serious. No more deforestation talks or discussions from Edward about the Categorical Imperative in medical practice; this is down to the nitty-gritty and it's raw, uncensored. It's all focused directly on _me_ now.

Dr. Andalano starts bluntly. "When was the last time Jasper ate?"

Esme looks at me quizzically, confused at his question. I feel guilt weighing on my soul like a concrete block. Carlisle doesn't speak, just studies my face. I look down at my fists, which are clenching and loosening themselves; I am silent.

"Well it wasn't at dinnertime, but I think you've just guessed that. He's quite the actor, isn't he? I wonder how long he has been fooling you."

"Jasper?"

"Sunday," I mutter to the dead silence around me. I didn't want to answer to their heavy stares, those somber eyes looking at me without judgment. They had never said anything judgmental about me since I'd first seen them walk through the door at Child Protective Services with my case worker. I should be able to trust them with the contents of my volatile mind – I should be able to open up, show them I care, explain without feeling the need to vomit… but I can't.

I gag and my hand trembles as I hold it over my mouth. There is nothing wrong with me – _physically_ wrong with me. My mind, however, is fucked. Every time I think about the blood, the myriad of glass shards sparkling despite the lack of lighting, the man with his belt unfastened and Bella frozen in his path… it curdles my stomach like sour milk. I will never be able to eat again, I think.

I deserve this punishment for the sins I've committed.

* * *

**E/N: The story continues, with many more questions to be answered... we will be entering a new phase to the story with a brand new framework in Chapter 35. I hope you enjoy it!**


	35. Conspicuous

Intox 35

It was the next day, after school. I was on my way to the Good Doctor's office, but my mind still lingered on the conversation I'd just had in front of the school. True to my word, I had shown up and done the student thing. People stared at me – at us. Our worn faces and battered appearance made it too obvious that something had gone down. I felt Mike Newton's eyes on me throughout the lunch period.

He escorted her to Biology, haranguing her every step of the way about safety. Once she reached our lab table and he saw me watching him with a look of quiet menace, however, he stopped short and left us. She and I hardly spoke, and I blame it entirely on my dancing fingertips and the way my feet bounced on the floor.

I wasn't exactly sure what to say to her. _Sorry I attacked your face?_ If she hadn't minded then that icebreaker would be insulting. I flipped through a mental index of phrases and still came up with _nada_.

Just before the bell had rung she discreetly slipped me a folded sticky note. There was a blooming blush on her face that made me smile as I accepted it between my index and middle fingers and flipped it open.

_Meet me on the front steps after school._

I dipped my head and slid the note between the blank pages of my notebook. We didn't speak for the rest of class, and I was out the door before the bell had finished ringing.

The message was discreet. The rendezvous, however, was as discreet as a fireball crashing into the school. Heads turned, and by turned I mean they fucking_ craned_ in our direction.

I waited on the low brick wall below the stairs, a half-spent cigarette dangling from my chapped lips. The foggy air felt refreshing and was impossible to resist; I breathed deep, ignoring the cigarette. My red backpack (temporarily relieved of its master purpose) lay forgotten on the damp concrete just out of reach of my dangling feet.

She approached quietly and hopped onto the wall beside me, carelessly waving my smoke from her air space. The motion almost unseated her; I put out an arm and steadied her.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," I replied. My eyes skimmed over the entire student population as they rubbernecked.

"I'm sorry about yesterday – my dad, you know?" She laughed nervously. "That was beyond embarrassing!"

I scratched the back of my neck and displayed a sarcastic grin. "Yeah, he _loves_ me."

"I guess it's a good thing he doesn't decide who I want to be with, then," she replied firmly.

I almost inhaled the lingering cigarette butt. Did this mean… _could it be?_ No, it was impossible. I looked at her for the first time, saw the two budding dots of pink on her cheeks and remembered reading somewhere that blushes used to be considered erotic. Women had drained themselves of blood in search of a cure for the immorality of their own bodies. They shouldn't have.

"Maybe you ought to listen to his advice," I said slowly. She was beautiful, and not in the way that men think bimbos and party girls are good looking. She had an intellectual beauty – a beauty I could respect.

Bella waited to respond. She dug into her paper-jammed pack and rooted around for the aluminum water bottle inside; I watched her hands, clad in the usual fingerless gloves, at work. She could be graceful, even, when she wasn't making an effort of it.

She finally said, "I did. I know you're dangerous to me."

_Oh boy was I._

"But I need to know whether yesterday was my doing or –"

"I like you," I finished before she could continue rambling.

She looked directly into my eyes and it didn't matter; no lies marred her view of my soul. I was speaking honestly – too honestly for my own good – and it didn't even matter that I might get burnt by sincerity. If anything, my eyes would reflect her because her eyes were so unguarded and trusting.

It would be too simple to reach out and touch her. I was half afraid she would waver and vanish like a Fata Morgana, just some higher illusion that my crazed mind had invented. It would be too simple to just kiss her again, though I wanted to feel the electric charge run up my spine like an 8-ball.

Carlisle's arrival broke the moment. I jumped at the sound of the car horn but turned my unbalanced fall into a casual dismount from the wall. He made a conspicuous motion somewhat akin to checking his watch and waited.

I assisted Bella down from the wall and grabbed my red backpack. "It's an app- a thing I have to go to," I said. _Had I almost spoken the unguarded truth?_

She made me nervous.

I gave her a hesitant half-hug and fled immediately to the car.

"I don't want to talk to you today!" I shouted at Andalano. "I don't even – fucking – fuck you, you know – and I'm not talking to you because this is such horseshit."

My temper was flaring already. It had only been a few minutes since we'd begun the hour-long session and already I regretted ever trying to "talk things out." It was a mistake.

"You're angry because of what I said to your parents last night."

"I'm fuckin' _irate_!"

"Good. You should be," he replied, and his words enough to stop my tirade. "But I don't want to talk about that now, and neither do you."

"Why don't I?"

"Because you want to sit down and tell me about your sister."

"Rose?"

He nodded. He motioned for me to sit and, once I had done so, settled back in his own chair as if the last few minutes hadn't happened.

"The way this will work is that I will ask you questions and you will answer with at least five sentences for each questions."

I sat at attention, waiting for a question that I couldn't answer – waiting for the wrong words to come out of the man's mouth. Some things can't be questioned; some questions can't be answered. All of the terrible things he could ask me, and I am obliged to answer them because the questions are being paid for…

He said, "What is your sister like?"

My head stopped. My mind blanked. My body stiffened. My fingers clenched hard enough to pop my knuckles. I hadn't expected _this_.

"Well," I began slowly, "she is an angel.

"She's never hurt a single person in the world. When she laughs, God smiles, and when she cries the world cries with her. She is strong, but people never notice that.

"I remember, her smile used to spread across the room when she entered – like no one could be sad with her around. She always made _me_ feel better; I used to think she made me normal."

"Normal?"

"You've read my charts, doc. You know I'm useless to society. But around Rose I can feel normal, protective, useful. She's my little sister, my better half, and I have to keep her smiling no matter what… at least, that's what I always thought."

"You took on the impossible, Jasper," he said, voice hushed.

I shook my head. "No, doc, I just failed her."

We sat in a silence so empty I could hear the bulb in his lamp humming. I let my words circle back and hit me. It was the truest thing I'd ever admitted, and it hurt. It hurt like ripping a knife out of your heart or setting a broken arm would hurt. It was a good hurt.

"Your actions got Family Services' attention, Jasper. She was removed from the home, you know, and it's not failure on your part that you lost contact for those years," Andalano said, but I hadn't been thinking of my stepfather or the dark years I'd spent in foster care after all was said and done.

"I meant Alaska." Even to me, my voice sounded empty.

"You need to move beyond that, Jasper, or you'll be consumed by it," he said.

"I…" There was nothing that I could vocalize that would be adequate. I didn't have the words to voice the confusion in my heart.

Shortly after that, we called it quits for the day.

* * *

E/N: Technically, there should be more to this chapter. However, I felt terrible keeping everyone waiting and, with new reviews coming in on a steady stream, I decided to release the chapter prematurely (though it's been months since I said i would publish a new chapter). Tune in next time for a late-night meal with Alice and Jasper... he's eating again!


	36. Ashes, Fluff n' Other Stuff

Intox 36

My mood was subdued when I met Carlisle outside. I felt like crying but couldn't allow myself the luxury. I'm supposed to be getting better, after all. Tears are counterproductive.

I was silent during the car ride home, thinking how lucky I am to call this place home. It's not a trailer on the outskirts of Dallas or a crumbling loft in the bad side of town or the mildewing couch I slept on when I lived with Peter. It doesn't have the negativity or the beatings or the manipulative bitches that those other places have. What it _does_ have is almost indefinable, but it something I'm not qualified to experience.

I was glad to see Alice, but we'd both had a trying day. She looked pale, subdued and withdrawn in a way that doesn't happen often. After a dinner (leftovers) that neither of us ate, she disappeared without a word – presumably into the trees; she enjoyed the tallest branches as her quiet place much like I did.

Edward and I cleaned the table, put away the still-edible bits of food. He washed the dishes; I dried them. I worked in a preoccupied silence until he noticed.

"Alice?"

I nodded. "She looks like a ghost." I hated that, in my self absorption, I hadn't noticed something was wrong.

"Don't beat yourself up over something you didn't do," Edward said. He placed a vice grip on my shoulders. _"Okay?"_

I shrugged him off and finished drying the dishes. Though my exterior was even, the cogs were turning in my head. Trying to figure out where this'd come from, what I'd done wrong or who had said something and _where the fuck_ I'd been during it.

I picked out a movie to watch, one of our favorites, and went to my room to clean and wait. When she came back inside, she'd suggest a movie and we'd curl up and watch it like always.

I changed the sheets – they smelled like smoke and sweat – and cleaned all the ashes, paper shreds, coins, stray buttons off my floor. I opened the window because the room was stale, like three-day old cigarettes and filmy water. It made me realize just how filthy I lived. My room _stunk._

I dropped to my belly and cleaned under my bed. It was such a travesty that I was enveloped by the garbage beneath my own bed: dirty socks, shoes, books that I'd long since paid the library for… I scooted deeper and found pills, masses of scattered pills without identity in the dim light. I gathered them up, over twenty of them, and stuffed them into my pocket for future analysis just as Alice ghosted into the room and peered under the bed skirt at me.

"Movie?"

"I was just cleaning. The movie's in the player," I said quickly and extracted myself from underneath the bed.

Alice started the movie and curled up with one of my blankets. She looked as if she'd been crying, but neither of us brought it up. This time was purely for recovery, for movies and being comforted by silent understanding. We never talked.

Both of us fell asleep mid-movie.

I dreamed an old dream, a recurring dream, a dream of memory that reminded me of the old days...

A shadow crossed before my eyes and settled in my peripheral vision. From a distance I heard the soft denim on denim; it hardly registered that I was _feeling_ it as well. My lips tingled and danced as her lips breezed across them. I felt my shallow breath hesitate and tried to follow the sensation but was forced back. I followed the ghostly sensations as they trailed down my neck and chest, sending shivers ahead of them in little shockwaves. A moan crossed my lips when I recognized the rick brown hue of her hair; when she lifted her gaze I knew that we had made a mistake in coming here.

Maria's skin was paler than it had been when I was sixteen and she eighteen. Her lithe body had become fuller and harder; the control she exuded all those years ago has been magnified since. It was hidden behind her eyes, dark and sharp, and in the slow bat of her long lashes. She was not seductive – not by normal conventions – but I was never been able to resist once her eyes locked on mine.

My body stiffened at her touch. I reached across the gritty floor with my free arm, trying to feel for the form beside me. I had come here with her, pulled her along into this lair as we searched for our high together. Though I could not see her through my heavy eyelids, I knew she was there, just inside my reach and outside of my thoughts. It was a last ditch effort before I succumbed to Maria's power, and I lost sight of the past, the pain, the panic in the rush of her body straddling my hips.

Maria kissed my lips again and, without waiting for me to respond, pressed her body into mine.

My head spun, but I wondered briefly what was happening as she won my body over. We had come here to score, of course. _She_ had wanted to see it and try it – to experience life like me – because some weeks ago the proverbial beans had been spilled. _She_ knew about my past. There had been a fight in which many people had been cursed and many gods blasphemed; at the end of it, she had won the battle and come to this industrial hellhole where I had once lived. _She_ had wanted in some way for me to do this. _She knew_ that Maria stilled lived here.

Maria's hands skimmed the leather belt over my left arm as we kissed. I hissed and tried to sit as she cinched it, if only to move with her, but was pushed back lightly. Maria laughed, threw her head back, and swayed her hips over me just to push me on. We both knew where my blood was rushing.

My body flushed. She smiled and readied the syringe, stopping just before it pierced my skin. I groaned, wanting, needing, anticipating… sex and drugs and shallow breaths on the edge of temptation, but Maria controlled all of that and now she looked angry.

"Why? Why did you bring _her_ here? This is _my_ memory." The cigarette between her lips smoldered dangerously. The transformation was terrifying.

She turned my head and I looked into Bella's half-opened eyes. I recognized the glazed look, the quick sweat of an overdose, and stared, not really surprised. This was Maria's world, after all.

"Now you don't get anything." She was disgusted. Once this happened, there was no begging forgiveness. No chance of getting a hit. No reason for her to tease any longer.

She sighed, exhaling the smoke with a sorrowful shake of her head as if she had no choice. My body tensed, remembering and understanding the déjà vu with grim finality. She pressed the cigarette butt into my collarbone as she kissed me. I couldn't even scream.

I lurched upright in bed, grabbing my shoulder reflexively. _By God, it had felt so _real. She had been an image of junk thirst, but her mind was still terrifying. Maria was still the essence of terror in my heart.

I braced myself, fearing and screaming inside and wondering where Ali was. My fingers brushed her hair, damp, warm. In a second my dream had been forgotten. I felt her forehead. _Feverish_.

"Ali, wake up!"

Her nightmares raged through her body like a holy fire. I shook her slight frame before remembering the lights. My hands were clumsy, nearly knocking over the lamp before I could turn it on. Light would wake her sometimes – I'd learned that by experience over the years.

Her fear was palpable – or was it my fear of isolation? She was alone in her dream world, and I had her in person, at least, if not essence. I shouldn't complain, but she wouldn't wake and loneliness had never suited us.

"Alice," I whispered in a sing-song way. "Wake up, Alice, it's bright out!"

She moaned and tossed, her eyes fluttering. I pleaded again, going too far in holding her. _Restraints._ She would wake in a holy terror, but she would wake.

If my hand hadn't been covering her mouth, Ali's scream would have woken the house. She came alive in my arms, a writhing tigress with hysterical sobs choking her roars. I felt selfish to wake her in such a way, which I had learned not to do the very day we met, but when she bit me I recovered myself.

"Alice, it's me – Jasper." I released her and she stopped struggling. For several minutes she sat gasping for breath in my lap while I sat motionless and afraid to speak. It had been a _bad_ dream.

"J-jasper?"

"I'm here," I whispered.

"… sorry I upset you."

"Nothing you could do would upset me. I just couldn't wake you. I panicked."

She curled up against me as her muscles began to allow movement. "You had a nightmare, too," she said.

I nodded. "Yeah, but it was a thing of the past."

It was a rare moment, an odd one. It was neither sad nor fearful. We simply sat together against the headboard of my bed in silence. Neither of us was able to sleep, the dream we'd just experienced still playing in the foreground of our minds.

I felt an inexplicable need to lighten the mood. Maybe I could sleep if she was happy. "I think," I said after that half hour, "that I'm hungry."

She stirred hopefully. "Really?"

"Yep!" I brushed her aside and hopped out of bed, barely groaning in the process. My body healed, in some aspects, too quickly for my own good.

"Ready?" I motioned for her to climb onto my back. "You'd better hold on tight, spider monkey!"

She giggled and hopped up for a free ride to the kitchen.

I set her down on the counter, flicked on the light switch and opened all the cupboards. I dug for jars and cans in the deep shelves and came away with a spread for the center island.

"What do you want to eat? Not hungry, eh? Well, we'll just start the recipe with peanut butter, then."

I stormed the refrigerator and pillaged the drawers, coming away with a smorgasbord that I laid out across the island. I tore open a loaf of bread and spread the slices across the countertop, unscrewed a jar of peanut butter, slathered it thick across the moist bread.

"Damn, I wish we had salami," I mused, holding out the peanut butter spoon to Alice.

"Jazz!"

"Wha- c'mon, Ali. I don't eat nothin' but rabbit food. This ain't so bad for me."

"Well, it "ain't" healthy… it looks like a sloppy mess to me," she said with a smirk.

I grinned and cracked open a jar of marshmallow fluff that Esme'd been saving for Emmett's birthday. It whipped up easily. I globbed it on top and tossed the jar to Alice, who caught it with a squeak.

"I'm going to make you eat one of these," I laughed.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste and watched as I drizzled honey and chocolate sauce over the fluff. "Ugh, at least put _something_ that once grew on those."

I diced a banana and smooshed the bits into the mess. "Satisfied?"

"Hardly."

Ali wrapped her limbs around me, and I carried both her and my tray of finished delights to the corner table. I poured us two insanely large glasses of milk, set plates and sat down like a victorious king.

"How've you been?" I asked, taking my first bite with gusto and tossing her a sandwich. She complied reluctantly after I rolled my hand for her to continue.

"I've been okay… more or less," she said and began to explain before I could clear my mouth to badger her about it. As I devoured my tray of sandwiches, she updated me on her upcoming art exhibit in Port Angeles, which was still a month away, and the nightmares that still plagued her.

"Alice, maybe you should talk to someone about your dreams." _God knows, it wouldn't be _me.

"I talk to you-"

"-about them, but I still don't understand… you're so vague… and do you really want _me_ to sort through your emotions? All I can pick up is fear."

She picked silently at her food. I'd ruined the situation, upset the precarious balance we'd been playing at, as soon as she took my words so harshly. _Or had I said them harshly?_ I seethed internally.

Then I asked her about art, and she was off on a tangent about the virtues of unprimed canvas and techniques she used in charcoaling that added sensuality to a flat medium. I even got her to bring out some pieces (unfinished, she claimed).

We were still in the kitchen, sketching and laughing when Esme interrupted us two hours later.


	37. Lunch Date?

**Yeah, this chapter is downright tiny. I considered procrastinating for another month but then decided I might write more if it came in short, attention span-sized blurbs. Here you go!**

Intox 37

Esme was less than thrilled about the marshmallow fluff than about me eating the entire contents of the cupboards. The kitchen looked as if a mortar had exploded… if the mortar were made of chocolate and honey.

The island was a muddy battleground. Spoons were cementing into the quicksand surface, colors and textures mixing into an unsightly gore. Bread bag left alone, abandoned, empty save for the final heel.

I froze mid bite, watched her survey the wreckage, watched her watch me with a hand frozen over her mouth as we sat in our corner. Alice was scrawling furiously with the hand of God, creating two dimensional universes.

"I buh ungry," I explained with my mouth full. " I'm forry."

"No, no!" she recovered herself, turning on the kettle before she sat down with Alice and me. She kissed my sticky forehead.

"I hope there's something healthy in that," she said.

"There's not."

"There _is_." I elbowed Alice, who scowled, though I was sure she wasn't sketching, and said proudly, "Bananas."

"Calories," she retorted.

Esme smiled and began breakfast. I licked my fingers and hopped up to clean up my mess. The morning silence was peaceful, just sound effects and background noise. Not too busy at all. _Perfect, really._

Edward and Carlisle joined us eventually and chatter renewed in a million small conversations. We had breakfast together even though Carlisle had a patient to consult and Alice had an early meeting with her art teacher. I suspected it was because of me but remained silent. The sentiment was embarrassing but reassuring; it meant they weren't about to kick me out.

I didn't want to be too obvious, so I chain smoked my way across the school parking lot until I was positioned near Bella's lunch group. They were gossiping. Apparently, they'd forgotten that humans could hear or that I still attended school on occasion.

"Do you think he beat her up?" Mike was saying. His tone was unnecessarily defensive; I hadn't done _shit_.

"Doubtable. Chief Swan would've made him disappear so far into the court system and there's no way she'd be near him." _Lauren_.

"They went to Seattle on Saturday-" _Jessica _"-and she never called when she got back to fill me in… maybe they got mugged."

"Maybe they got a little rough on Saturday night."

"Lauren, ech!"

"C'mon, Mike. Learn to joke!"

"Nah," protested Mike, "she wouldn't. Not with him. He's institution-style mental."

Well, he'd pegged me on that one. I'd been committed twice. At least the second time I'd brought back Alice.

Bella's orange truck rumbled into the lot, and their conversation ceased. Heads turned in anticipation. I waited, too, for a glimpse of her over-bundled frame and awkward smile. She saw her friends first then looked beyond them. We made eye contact; I jerked my chin and patted the space beside me. She smiled and came my way.

"I need to go to my locker."

"I'll walk with you." I flicked my cigarette toward a scandalized Mike and hopped up, dusting my pants. I kept pace as we walked. She stopped at her locker; I waited and began to chat, keeping an eye out for her pseudo-suitor.

"It's supposed to be sunny this weekend."

"Yeah," she sighed wistfully. "So?"

"So you look as if you haven't been on a rainforest hike yet, is all." I studied my fingernails. "We should discuss this over lunch."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I quirked my eye brows and leaned in close enough to hear her breath catch. "Skip with me. We'll be back for class."

She bit her lip. I could see the wheels turning, weighing my charm against what everyone else had been telling her. It was cute to see her so flustered.

"Look, don't judge me based on hearsay, and in turn I'll forget you're a glorified police informant. It's not fair to judge, Bella. You said so yourself."

"That's not it," she said, blushing under my gaze. "I was going to do homework over lunch; I'm trying to find time to do it now." She toyed with her hair. "I'm such a dork."

I couldn't help but chuckle; I leaned in to whisper. "Dorks are so underrated these days. I'll catch you here before lunch."

She nodded, but I was already walking toward class. I was determined to be cool - as nonchalant as the wind, my dad used to say – but the dumbass grin wouldn't leave my face. It was best she didn't see the look, which I tried and failed to tame when I saw Edward scowling at me from the stairwell. _Let his grimace, let him sputter with rage_, _let him try to take this away from me today, _I thought, laughing to myself as I passed him.

_ He can't have her._


	38. Lunch Date

Intox 38

After arranging lunch with the cafeteria workers, I have a hard time remembering walking to class, and I don't recall listening to bullshit from my peers, which I'd always considered an everyday occurrence. I think I floated through my first three classes. I _must_ have floated.

Today, everything was going well. When my teacher called on me in 4th period class I was actually able to answer the question, and the answer sparked a debate that disrupted class time for twenty minutes. It took up a majority of my attention; I forgot to crave cigarettes, heroin… even Bella for that brief amount of time. For my part, I debated the teacher directly and ignored my classmates like they tended to avoid me.

When the lunch bell finally rang my teacher pulled me aside to give me a "welcome back" that I hadn't realized I deserved. I stumbled through an awkward, dodgy-eyed reply and swerved into the hallway. The stream of students parted around me with lingering stares; I'd never thought myself bulky, but these kids made me feel like a two-headed giant. I pitied what Emmett had gone through.

Bella met me with a smile by her locker for the getaway. I directed her to the bathroom adjacent the cafeteria and exit doors. She looked at me quizzically.

"I don't have to pee."

I laughed so hard I almost had a coughing fit. The girl couldn't ditch class properly to save her life. "So it's not so obvious when you meet me outside. We can't both go pick up food in the caf, you know."

She scurried away blushing, and I snuck into the cafeteria door by the kitchen. The food line stretched across the room, but I slunk to the kitchen door and allowed myself in before Edward or Mike noticed me. Mrs. Brindley, the cook I'd flirted shamelessly with that morning, looked up with a smile and pointed at the bag of goodies she'd assembled. I shot her my most charming smile, complete with a bright-eyed wink, and headed to the outdoor exit with the loot.

The sky was cloudy but didn't smell like rain yet; for once it was cooperating with me. I breathed the essence of green… just _green_… until Bella burst through the doors and clung to the brick wall like an escaping fugitive. I couldn't help but laugh. She turned to me with wide eyes and clutched her heart.

"I think they saw me!"

"Well, my dear, it appears we'd better get moving." I wiggled my quirked eyebrows and smirked. She jogged along behind me as I headed for my abandoned walkway, my one grungy piece of the school that brought back peaceful memories. When she caught up, I took a quick look around before ushering her up the crumbly stairs with a hand on her back.

Once at the landing, I brushed away some debris and spread out my jacket to accommodate her. She took her seat and I flopped down beside her. A piece of plastic caught my eye, and I tossed the syringe cap over the wall behind me. She looked at me in alarm when I burst into laughter, but I couldn't stop myself.

"Why are you laughing?"

"It's too good a day not to," I explained. "You should try it sometime."

"I can't just laugh," she protested to my amusement, and I laughed harder. Her smile widened despite itself. She snickered.

"So fake laugh until you really laugh. It works every time, I promise."

Bella chuckled to herself and removed our food from the bag. I leaned back and grinned to the sky, too pleased with myself and her and how perfect everything was going to do more than pick at her grapes. We sat in wavering sunlight on the dirty concrete walkway, smiling and finished that game of Twenty Questions we'd begun what seemed like a month ago.

"If you could be any animal, what would it be?" I asked as she bit into her chicken sandwich, "and don't say chicken because I know it isn't true."

She snorted and nearly choked. "Well, I've always liked horses…"

"You're such a chick."

She was indignant; I could hear it in her breath when she said, "So what about _you_?"

I thought of all the animals people had related me to. Most of them were parasitic. I'd come to think of myself like a cat, however, and not in the way that mountain lions were ferocious or territorial but more like a lazy, sleeping housecat.

Bella punched my arm teasingly and settled against the wall, her shoulder brushing mine. I could have moved away but didn't. I liked her there, the soft weight against me, the hum of energy flowing between us. It made the clouding sky seem brighter.

"Hey, Jasper, how come you know this place? No one else has mentioned it."

"I … come here when I skip class sometimes … when I'm upset or want to get away from it all." It was _technically_ the truth, too.

She had no follow-up questions, so I continued. "Speaking of skipping, you should go on that hike with me this Saturday. The weather's going to be perfect."

"You do know that hikes are a health hazard for me, though, right?"

"I won't let you trip into a river, Bella. Besides, I can tell you haven't seen the area."

"Not true! I used to live here when I was a kid."

"Doesn't mean you've seen anything," I countered her protest, looking at her out of the corner of my eye. She was watching me, too.

She eventually agreed to pick me up in the morning if I packed her a survival kit and made lunch. The terms were easy to accept, and then we enjoyed the chilly air and scents of springtime. I was amazed at how far we'd come from being at each other's throats, and part of me suspected that it was the power of opposites attracting; the air was electric.

If I was honest, I'd been attracted to her since I knew who she was or why she was sitting in the front of a police cruiser. She was funny in a dorky way that rivaled Emmet's personality, and she was a hell of a lot more attractive than he was. She had an eclectic taste in music and knew her shit when it came to literature, too. Her clumsiness, despite how hard she tried to overcome it, was adorable.

I was smitten, but how was I going to tell her?

The bell rang. I would never know.

_Goddamnit._

* * *

_EN: You've just seen my first regular update in about a year... Is anyone from the old days still here to remember when I posted every Friday without fail? Maybe that'll happen again... if you review! =D_


	39. The boy who fell down the rabbit hole

Intox 39

Our entrance to Biology was a cause for gossip. We arrived late, together because we hadn't been able to time it correctly. Judging from the shocked look on Mike's face and how Jessica's face was glowing with the promise of gossip, our absences at lunch had been noted. The teacher stopped his lecture to ask us for hall passes and marked us tardy when neither of us had one.

Bella cowered behind me as I led the way to our table and set out our books. She stumbled, and I yanked her around into her seat before she fell. The teacher was talking but they were still staring. I scanned their faces with a blank gaze, noting which ones were most likely to accost Bella. We opened our notebooks and began copying notes dutifully, and I hoped they would do the same.

I was wrong. Bella's blush blossomed into a fiery scarlet beside me; she could feel the judgmental stares, too. My pen broke under my fierce grip, spilling black ink across a notebook I'd finally put to use. I muttered a curse and let the mess seep, my mind hovering protectively over Bella. I was ready to punch anyone who taunted her, to wipe out a crowd of jilted lovers, to blot out the eyes of anyone who stared…

_God help me now._

My emotion clouded my head and made me unreasonable. I could smell her – could smell everything from her shampoo to the peppermint candy she'd eaten on our way to class because there was no time to brush her teeth. I craved that smell, the way it tickled my nose and sent enough chills running through my nervous system to make me remember that I was a man. It wasn't enough that I'd spent such time in close proximity with her; I needed more time, infinite time to smell her hair and to hear her breathing beside me.

I focused on the lesson but it was useless. My God, I'd never craved anything as badly as I did this! I repeated our conversations over in my head, honing in on her face and the smile with which she spoke. I analyzed her voice and her hair and even the way she clicked her shoes together while she ate. _Oh God, Oh God, I was obsessed. I was sick._

We went our separate ways after class, but a reflection of her stayed in my mind. I felt more absent-minded than usual, nearly forgot my backpack on the floor after the final bell rang and headed in the wrong direction before turning myself back toward the car.

Alice noticed my strange behavior first. As usual, she'd figured it out before me and had had time to process the consequences. Now that I was in on the joke, too, she couldn't stop grinning at me. Every few minutes she craned in her seat to look at me with a smile as wide as Texas on her angelic face.

She had never seen me so smitten, she claimed as we trailed behind Edward into the house. At first she'd been upset but now she was just worried that my gentlemanly judgment would take a beating when it came to Bella Swan. She grinned and I, too dazed to protest of be embarrassed by her behavior, put up with the teasing all night.

Edward finally demanded to know what was so funny after I walked past the stove and upset the pasta pan, sending waves of boiling water and noodles across the floor. Alice burst into laughter while I, cursing vehemently, tried to scrape the steaming strands back into the pan before Esme returned to notice. My brother was not so amused.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing… yet." Alice gave me a mischievous look and burst into giggles again.

He frowned and looked at me suspiciously. I scooted around the kitchen with dishtowels under my feet, poured more water over the noodles and then returned them to the stovetop. Esme would never know and the floor was clean.

"Nothing's going on Ed," I said, knowing he found the informal title irksome. "I'm just having an exceptionally good day today. First good day in a long time."

There, he'd seen it. _Sincerity_. On most of my "good days" in the past, I'd barely managed more than a snide comment in his direction. This was a full sentence dripping with sincere goodwill and happiness. What more could he want?

Nothing, as it turns out. He retreated in confusion and left Alice and I to our afterschool snack.

I took a walk after dinner to catch up on the cigarettes I'd forgotten to smoke earlier. The air was pleasantly chill and the rain misting. I walked with my hood up and let the cigarette dangle from the corner of my mouth as I tromped through the forest toward nowhere in particular. It was peaceful, but something was nagging me about Alice; she'd once been set against me even talking to Bella, and I needed to know why she'd changed her mind so drastically; I needed that affirmation. I returned home in need of a shower and a candid conversation.

I showered first. The water that rushed out of the showerhead was hot enough to steam, covering the mirror and transforming the room into a soup. I could have opened the vent but anonymity suited me more. I hated the sight of my body. Looking at myself had become a chore and, after Maria'd had her way with me, damn near impossible. The water burnt, but it was better than looking at my flaws while I scrubbed myself clean.

I wrapped a towel around my waist and entered the empty hall in a poof of steam. Despite myself, I looked to see whether anyone could see me. My self-consciousness had blown out of control since we'd moved here from Alaska, but I'd loosened up and could now trust my family not to be _too_ judgmental.

Changing still took precedent, though. After Bella's premature appearance on Saturday I was paranoid. I didn't hesitate to change into pajama pants and an undershirt that hid most of my scars. The track marks were fading, fitting in with the other pale marks running up and down my arms. I was pleased.

Alice's door was shut when I moseyed over to it, but that was common. I knocked and entered.

"_Jazz!_"

"Fuck!" I spun and she shouted for me to shut the door. I did but ended on the wrong side.

Her room smelled fresh, as if she kept the windows open or there was a tree growing inside. I stared fixedly at a small imperfection in the paint, mentally replaying the sight of her smooth skin and bare breasts before I could stop myself. _Goddamnit! _Sometimes I hated being a man.

"Oh my _God_." Alice's groan turned into a chuckle. "Did you see anything you liked?"

My breath was tight. As a man I was obligated to like it but as Jasper I had to lie. So I said nothing.

"Oh you don't need to be so uptight about it," she teased. "Don't be an Edward!"

_That_ got me to snicker. "I am _so _sorry," I said without turning and launched into a rapid explanation that she cut off by telling me to shut up.

"It's not like I've never seen _you_ without your shirt on, Jasper," she said, "and you were more embarrassed then than I am now. So get over it and give me your shirt."

She was right, of course. It had taken me a week to talk to her again the first time she saw me shirtless. I'd threatened to kill her dog if she told anyone about it. The dog was a scraggly little mutt we'd found half-dead the year before; it had taken the both of us to persuade Carlisle not to just put it down and since then we'd babied it mercilessly. Alice told Carlisle, but I hadn't killed the dog. It got hit by a car three days later while we were at the hospital with Rose, and I had had to tell Alice. I remember her sobbing in my arms while I repeated "it wasn't me" like a broken record; I was terrified of losing both her and Rose at the same time.

I saw her in the corner of my eye, her arms folded across her chest. I looked away and pulled the shirt over my head. She snatched it and announced decency after ten seconds. I looked; the shirt that had been tight on me was monstrously large on her petite frame.

"I never knew you had a tattoo." My brain had apparently shut down.

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. "You've never seen me topless before."

"I had a serious question for you…" but I couldn't remember it. I blinked hard to clear my head. Alice scooted through the doorway with promises of returning "in a sec" and told me to make myself comfortable.

_Yeah, as if that was possible now._

I walked across her room and flopped down on the bedspread. The thing you should know about Alice's room is that it's big. She's claustrophobic and used to have panic attacks so, when Esme designed the house, she made Alice's room especially open. Alice got panel windows and tons of open space – or maybe it was because she was so tidy and my room was crammed with useless shit.

One might assume on first glance that it lacked personality, but they'd be wrong. It was simply her style. The colors were cheerfully bright and arranged to be inviting. It was a sophisticated and airy look that she'd helped Esme design.

She returned while I was staring at the ceiling. Her breath was minty and her face fresh. She sat next to me by the headboard and curled her knees beneath her. Absently, she ran her fingers through my mussy hair.

"You want to know whether I'm actually happy for you."

I nodded without meeting her eyes.

"I am."

My apprehension eased. Alice never lied to me; she was telling me the truth, but I still didn't understand.

"I thought about it, Jazz," she answered softly before I could speak, "and I thought that maybe your being happy _now_ outweighed anything that will happen in the future. What makes you happy makes me happy, and I like being happy… so I'm happy for you."

We were silent while I meditated on her revelation. She couldn't know how her words reassured and convinced me that I would not be alone while she was nearby. I sighed a happy sigh and smiled.

"I can't believe we ate that pasta," I said finally.

She snickered. "The heat probably killed everything."

Esme poked her head in while we were laughing and raised an eyebrow at us. I sat up quickly, but she didn't come out and say anything. Instead, she said, "You have a bed of your own to sleep in, Jasper. I suggest you use it."

I understood the dangerous implications of the tone. In an instant I was up and brushing past Esme, shouting a quick "goodnight" back in their direction as I headed down the hall. I wondered whether Carlisle would be lurking in the shadows to question me about girls and relationships and all sorts of bullshit, but he wasn't. That _was a relief._

I pulled a new shirt on before climbing under my blankets. It took me twenty two and a half minutes to fall asleep, during which all I could think of was Bella Swan.

* * *

**A/N. Thanks for your patience! Once again I've managed to update. I'm so proud of myself!**

**Give me a review (anonymous allowed) to let me know your thoughts and your anticipations on the upcoming chapter. The reviews are like holding carrots in front of a donkey. A stubborn, lazy donkey who doesn't like to do her work in a timely fashion. =D**


	40. If ever the odds were stacked

Intox 40

_Friday._

It's amazing how nightmares can sneak up on you. One moment you're drifting through hallways that smell like the ocean, and the next the floorboards are dusty and you're eight again, running from real life monsters in your past. Your feet patter quickly because, at this point, you've realized there is something funny about his adult sodas and that his apple cider doesn't smell like an apple grove. You run on and on, and the whole time you're watching yourself, too, like a specter.

It's not one of those dreams I wake up sobbing to or even remember every time. My family, after years of practiced observation, knows that this recurring dream puts me in a funk for the morning. I hardly realize it until I'm caught rubbing my jaw or sniffing my morning juice glass. It's become a habit.

I tripped out of bed and slammed a fist onto my alarm clock, but my ears still rang. My head pounded enough to make my jaw ache. I sat on the floor for a moment, feeling too queasy to move, and when I finally stood my legs were jelly. I gagged.

I breathed.

After five minutes I stumbled downstairs to the kitchen.

Esme was by the stove when I entered. She gave me a hug when I teetered in asking for Tylenol but denied me. Not that I _needed_ the weak-ass pain pills, but it would've been nice. I rubbed my jaw and poured a mug of coffee.

Walking to the table, I felt vaguely distant, as if I had not sat on this worn bench in the corner every morning for years. It wasn't sun-warmed or dusty. Somehow, I thought it would've been.

I closed my eyes and let my fingers trace the wooden tabletop, taking in every crease and imperfection in the stained surface. The room smelled like cinnamon and perfume wafting across a hot desert breeze; I knew the smell wasn't real, but I kept my eyes shut.

"Honey, are you okay?"

I opened my eyes to the kitchen. Washington, not Texas. Esme, not Mom. Real life, not fantasy.

"Yeah," I said hoarsely, rubbing my temple. I needed a thousand glasses of water to refresh myself. "I'll make my own breakfast, if you don't mind."

Esme's lips tightened, but she stood back with moist eyes. I plunked my mug down and dug into the cupboard for a box of ground wheat and a sauce pan. She began to cook breakfast and kept an overprotective eye on me.

We worked the kitchen in silence. The garlic and salt bubbled in her skillet; I stirred salt into my heating water and fidgeted with my coffee. She cracked eggs and dropped them into the pan; I tested the water, burnt my finger and dumped in the powder. She scrambled. I whisked.

Alice skipped into the room and gave me a hug that hit me in the sternum. She surveyed our products and wrinkled her nose at mine.

"I'll take what Es's having."

I shot her an arch look. "Now I feel bad for offering you any."

She grinned. "Good morning to you, too, Jazz."

I ate my gruel with butter and salt, and the rest of my family stared at me over heaping plates of eggs. Carlisle and Esme exchanged a disguised look and he nodded. It didn't matter to me, though. If I was missing my favorite meal, I couldn't tell. I had eyes only for my cereal; it smelled like heavenly, heavenly nostalgia… and home.

I stuck my head into the clouds after breakfast and stayed there when Edward collected me for school. I sat in the backseat, wringing my hands and thinking of how my club thumbs were my dad's. One pinky shorter than the other – my mother's doing. I was about to sink into an introspective oblivion when we pulled to a stop in the parking lot.

I spotted the truck immediately. The cumbersome frame stuck out in the sea of small sedans, and I had to smile. The car fit her perfectly, its faded orange like a beauty trying to dull herself down to hide. Like Bella, it failed.

She hopped out of the cab and waved me over quickly before ducking into the truck's shadow. I paused to light a cigarette before joining her. Her eyes scanned the surroundings for lurkers. I swaggered over.

She didn't give me a chance to speak.

"So I told my dad about tomorrow," Bella said in a rush, "and he wants you to come over for dinner ton-"

"What?" I choked on smoke.

"-ight or it's a no deal," she finished. "I can't go."

I knew I was frowning, but how could I not? Chief Swan didn't trust or like me; the accurately perceived dalliance with his daughter would not go over well. I took a drag off my boge and nodded absently, stalling for time. I _dreaded_ her dad. I didn't want to go.

But I wanted Bella.

I sighed. "What's for dinner?" I tried to smile and managed a grimace.

Her smile extended to her ears. "You won't regret this. It's going to be delicious!"

"I wanted to know what was for dinner. I know _you _taste good," I said, straight-faced, and watched her digest my words.

The look on her face resembled a drowning fish. _Priceless_. She flushed scarlet and spun away, but she tripped over her a pebble or my good fortune and fell backward. I caught her halfway to the ground, wrapping my arms around her so she was ensnared.

I took in everything about her. I loved the way her hair shimmered softly in the faint sunlight and how she still smelled like bergamot from her morning tea. I loved holding her, feeling her ribs expand beneath my fingers in a way that wrapped me up in her shallow breaths and the furious beating of her heart.

She moved first to stand, and I was obliged to release her. My inner caveman grunted, but I set her upright and kissed her flushed cheek. It lingered. I had to give my caveman _some_ leniency, after all.

We discussed my appearance that evening while walking to the building. The two of us fit together in some bizarre way I didn't quite understand. She was a foot shorter than me but, when we walked, fit perfectly at my side. Despite the hazy cloud of smoke that surrounded me, she walked close; I was comforted that she wasn't disgusted with my smoking. We never brushed, but I could feel her electric charge against my skin as if she were a ghost limb.

I even missed Bella when she was standing beside me. _God, I'm an idiot. _ I shook my head ruefully and earned a quizzical look. My face spread into a beaming smile. She was beautiful, but I couldn't tell her yet; she wouldn't believe me. _When would she?_ Ever the self-deprecating heroine, she probably brushed off compliments as you would flies in a swamp. _So… probably never._

Luckily, I was a man who liked to gamble with the odds.

_Afternoon_

I was becoming increasingly appreciative of how little Andalano's office was institutionalized. There was a polite receptionist in a green floral blouse and knee-length skirt that smelled subtly of perfume. I noticed it when she offered to get me a soda. It was the kind of perfume that made a woman memorable, and you never smelled _that_ in an institution. In an institution, the staff is taught that smells other than cleaners and plastic will disturb the patients. Here, everyone is colors and smiles and wooden furniture. I like it.

My shoes danced on the floor while I waited for Andalano's door to open. I watched my feet jerk spastically. They wove musical beats into the carpet, no doubt wearing it threadbare as each movement encompassed one second and not nearly enough nervous energy. Carlisle was in there talking to my doctor. My muscles flinched and danced accordingly.

When Carlisle emerged, I stood with trepidation. My jaw clicked; I massaged it gently and returned to kneading my hands. Andalano invited me in and smiled from across his desk. His prominent jowls bulged like a hound dog's. We did our regular staring contest before he won and addressed our topic of the day.

"How've you been sleeping?"

I shrugged. "I'm dreaming again. It's been a while."

"Carlisle says you had a nightmare last night. I wouldn't have thought about your tics, but they _do_ seem worse than normal."

He was watchful. No doubt he saw my face move in and out of composure before I affixed a blank gaze. The apathy didn't suit me, anyway. I wanted someone else to know. It had taken me years of half-remembered dreams to piece it all together. I _wanted_ to see if it all made sense, to have him support my neuroticism or shoot me down.

I fidgeted. "My… stepdad, Ray, was…" I searched for the proper word, but I'd never been one for proper phrasing. "He had issues, doc."

Andalano's eyes lit up, but he didn't reach for his pen or look away. I nodded and continued, my voice hoarse.

"He could flip the fuck out if you didn't put your Legos away but be totally chill at breakfast the next day. Like, on a rage scale from one to Christian Bale, he was Mike Tyson." I was dead serious. Our walls became a patchwork of plaster seams over the years.

My throat tightened. "So I keep having this _fucking_ dream and every time I'm being chased by Ray. It's my home – my Texas home – and I'm a little kid again, running. I'm not even worried about Rose; I'm running down the hallway to the kitchen, hoping to make it to the backdoor before he can catch up, and sometimes I'm just standing in the kitchen watching myself trip over my feet and fall."

Andalano shifted slightly and looked down for a moment. "Why do you think this moment affect you so much?"

If I forced myself, I could think back to that time – to the exact moment when I'd tripped. My heart lurched when he picked me up by my hair like he was grabbing a dog by its scruff. I didn't shout because Rose would've run to my rescue and that defeated the purpose of hiding her from him. He shook me around for a bit, but that wasn't so memorable; him hitting me hard enough to dislocate my jaw… _that _was memorable.

It was the first punch he'd thrown my way. My head slammed into the counter and I woke in bed hours later to the sound of Rose crying; she'd been hiding under my bed the whole time. I didn't eat anything but gruel for a week before mom took me to the doctor and found out about my jaw.

"Jasper?"

I jumped at the sound of his voice and looked around quickly. My knuckles were white from the death hold they had on the ornate armrests. My back was rigid, my neck strained. I took the breath I hadn't known I was holding. My eyes stung.

"I was just a kid, doc. I know no one ever has a perfect childhood, but this time I think the grass was a _whole-fuckin'-lot_ greener on the other side."

He nodded.

"It's not fair," I said.

He shook his head and changed the subject.

_Evening_

I bounded up the stairs onto the porch and knocked rapidly on the door. As if being late mattered at this point, fifteen minutes after we had decided I should arrive. I adjusted my jacket and tried to breathe like I hadn't just run all the way here from downtown.

Chief Swan opened the door and gave me a terse greeting. I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like a housecat next to a tiger. I started to speak, but he interrupted me and led me into the kitchen.

Bella was flustered, her face red as she wiped stray hairs away from her face. Her hands were messy. She looked at me nervously. I hesitated in the doorway, afraid of the monumental bomb she seemed prepared to drop.

"I forgot you were vegetarian," she said with a wince. "I mean, I remember you telling me, but I didn't think…" She looked sheepish.

Chief Swan gave me a look that said she'd been panicking about it for at least half an hour. I scratched my head and struggled to keep myself from laughing. Bella waited for my reaction.

I hadn't eaten animal flesh since the last time Emmett and Rose came to town in the summer; Emmett brought a mammoth-sized steak and snuck me some while it was still medium-rare. If heaven could be a taste, it would've been that steak.

I shrugged. "I'll try it. Whatever it is, it smells delicious."

She beamed up at me, and I halfway grinned before catching Chief Swan's stare. My confidence faltered. I offered to help, was brushed off and told to sit, so I sat at the table and stayed out of the way while Bella put the finishing touches on the beef stroganoff and her dad set the table.

He cracked a can of beer and sat down across from me at the small table. The condensation ran down in rivulets, pooling at its base. For some ungodly reason I thought of Ray poisoning every family dinner with a six pack of beer and abusive commentary. I hadn't thought of him so much in months, maybe years, and today he wouldn't go away. He ruined everything.

Bella kicked me under the table. I flinched and blinked. She was looking at me curiously.

" –under age drinking in this house," Chief Swan finished, and I realized he had been talking to me.

"Wha-" I massaged the bridge of my nose and shook the cobwebs from my brain. "No, of course not, sir."

I felt the weight of his judgment on my chest throughout dinner. I had no appetite but picked at the noodles and vegetables quietly. I second guessed every movement, every chunk of meat I pushed aside with my fork, every sound I made and every compliment I forgot to give his daughter. It was impossible for even Bella to ignore the tension, but she tried to talk over the silence.

Over dinner, her dad ended up asking me some hard questions like where was going to college and what I would study. I hadn't thought of it since I was fifteen, but I laughed when he asked; when I was little, I'd dreamed of being a policeman. _Oh the irony_.

Thankfully, he took me up on my offer to help Bella with the dishes and retired to the living room. I waited until I heard the television before I slumped over the table with my head in my hands.

"Holy fuck he hates me," I moaned. Bella rubbed my tense shoulders. It felt miraculous.

For once, she agreed with me. "I didn't believe you that it was that bad," she admitted, "but now I'm convinced."

I sighed heavily and straightened enough to look her in the eyes. "For what it's worth, dinner _was_ delicious."

I helped Bella wash dishes – well, to be honest, I dried them – before she drove me home. She glanced at me occasionally, but every time I snuck a peek she was biting her lip. I knew what that meant, but I hoped she wasn't worried enough to change her mind about me.

Her sigh scared me. "Thanks for trying to eat dinner," she said. I sensed another apology in the works.

"I needed some protein anyway." I bent quickly and kissed her cheek.

She giggled and blushed, and I kissed the corner of her mouth. She rested a hand on my chest. My breath was shaky; I could feel the electricity in her touch.

"Yeah," she said breathlessly, "anemia doesn't suit you."

I chuckled. "C'mon, drive me home. Carlisle'll freak if I'm home late."

She nodded reluctantly and fetched her keys. I tried to brush it off, but I felt her dad's eyes follow me as we walked out the door and was glad to be free. Her dad terrified me.

* * *

_EN: Sorry the chapter was a bit late. Please review and let me know your thoughts on the chapter's revelations. There will be more coming!_


	41. Breakfast Delusions

Intox 41

Bella showed up earlier than I'd anticipated on Saturday. Edward was pouring milk for our cereal in the nook. Alice had just walked into the kitchen wearing bed shorts and a purple camisole. I was sitting at the table with my coffee, still wearing flannel pants and the black t-shirt that I'd worn to bed.

Since I'd pulled myself out of bed fifteen minutes ago, I hadn't thought of much more than the coffee brewing in the kitchen. I had slept terribly. When I wasn't waking every half hour in a blind panic, it had been Carlisle or Edward shaking me, screaming, out of nightmares. My glazed eyes were shadowed, I hadn't shaved and my hair was mangy. All I wanted was coffee to rouse me from the funk and prepare me for the day.

"Jasper, your friend is here," Esme called. She was at the front door; I could tell from the way her voice carried. I heard the door creak as it opened and the polite introductions from downstairs.

I shot to my feet so fast that I knocked my knees into the table and fell back into my seat. The silverware rattled. I'd upset my coffee, splashing it onto the tablecloth along with most of my cereal. My heart raced.

"Fuck me," I muttered. I was _so_ unprepared for this.

I heard Esme lead her up the stairs and nearly hyperventilated. I had to get out. She would get too close and notice my arms, would recoil or gasp or give me one of _those_ looks - if I let her. This was panic mode. I _had_ to get out before she saw me.

Edward and I exchanged a quick glance before he nodded and ran for the hallway to interrupt Bella. He knew all about the self-conscious delusions I suffered from by experience. One day in Alaska he'd asked me a touchy question that I can't even remember anymore, and I had punched him between the eyes hard enough to break his nose; he still had a bump in the cartilage to remind him.

I scrambled out of my seat and down the hall for the laundry room, praying the whole way that Esme hadn't sorted through our laundry hampers yet. I was being ridiculous, but rationality never mattered to me for long. The manic portion of my brain was raging.

I dug through my dirty hamper for a pair of pants. I tugged on a pair of socks and swapped my shirt for one of Edward's thermals. It was green and definitely tight on me, but my shirts were all useless t-shirts and there was no way I would touch one of Carlisle's button-ups. Edward would have to get over it; I'd buy him a new shirt some day.

Her fingers were wrapped around a steaming mug by the time I ambled into the kitchen. She was chatting with Alice but paused when she saw me. She wore a pair of loose pants and a scoop neck t-shirt. I noted the digital watch and slightly worn hiking boots before looking away. Her gaze lingered.

I grabbed a towel and joined them in the nook. I tossed the towel over the sodden tablecloth, grumbling, and nudged Alice to let me in. She leaned forward so I could climb over the bench behind her, and I sat down to eat breakfast. My cereal was soggy. I poured fresh flakes and skimmed from the top of the bowl.

"I see you met Alice," I said, reaching for my mug and realizing that most of its contents were splashed across the table. I sighed and got up for more coffee.

"Would you believe we have a class together?" said Bella with a little laugh.

"Really?" I said, turning to Alice.

Across the room, Alice shifted uncomfortably. I raised an eyebrow. She glowered. I glared. She gave me a little look that only I could read and turned her body away. I sighed and mouthed a silent apology before sitting next to Bella.

Alice smiled. "I can tell already, Jazz. Bella and I are going to be such good friends!"

I nodded noncommittally and grunted into my coffee. Bella grinned. I looked at her, how her brown hair curved at the ends, lapping her shoulders and framing her face, and smiled, too.

"You're going to need a hair tie," I said before taking another languid sip. "Preparation." I wagged a finger at her.

"Oh, believe me, I'm prepared for _anything_." She motioned to the canvas backpack on the floor beside me that I had somehow missed. I leaned over and hoisted it into my lap before she could protest. It was surprisingly heavy.

"Holy crap, Bella, what's in here?"

She dug through it and pulled out a hair tie. "For starters," she said smugly and I had to admit defeat.

I looked into the cavernous recess of the bag and saw an amalgam of tools that I hadn't even thought necessary for a day hike in the forest. I pulled them out slowly, studying each one before setting it on the table. I could accept the high-powered binoculars because that was just cool, but I was lost as to why she needed a GPS unit. Or the flare gun, the tarp and the hunting knife. At the bottom, rolling around in the dark, was a can of pepper spray.

"Your dad has a lot of faith in me," I said dryly, studying the label before replacing it gingerly. It was police issue Mace, which meant it was illegal for civilians and probably blinding. I didn't want to be on the receiving end of _that_ canister.

Edward returned to the room dressed and looking to succeed. He shot me a look before his gaze fell to the battery of gadgets assembled around me.

"Whoa, who's going camping?"

Bella blushed. I made half a move to get up and beat him for provoking the same reaction from Bella that I could, but Alice kicked me and I sat. I didn't want Chief Swan to have any excuse for her to use the pepper spray. Once I remembered that, I was serene.

"I'm going to get us lost," I announced proudly, picking up the GPS device. It was small and white, about the size and shape of a baby monitor but with keys across the front. I assumed that Bella knew how to use it and dropped it into the bag unceremoniously.

Bella nodded, a smile spreading across her face. "Yep," she said teasingly, "and my dad just wants us to be prepared for it."

I chuckled and got up to throw together some trail mix and sandwiches while Bella and Alice returned to their conversation. Edward sidled up to me and gave me a nudge that turned my smile around. He dropped my morning pills unceremoniously into my hand, and I knocked them back with a dour expression.

"Thanks," I said insincerely. It wasn't his fault, but I could still be pissed at the messenger, right?

"No problem," he replied just as stiffly and stalked away.

After a moment, Bella appeared by my side and picked up the paring knife. She began slicing apples, her palm pressed down on the spine of the knife, but for a moment I was frozen by the memory of bloody hands pressing on me while I screamed in cold dread of my own exposed flesh. When I blinked, she had paused and was studying my petrified expression with readable frustration.

"I'm not a little kid. I know how to chop apples," she said, her jaw set. She must get this reaction around knives a lot.

I nodded quickly, unwilling to share the truth. I apologized and kissed her forehead, which set her face aflame and made my skin tingle. Edward stared at us fixedly. Alice smiled.

"I _do_ know where I'm going," I added.

She nodded. I waited, but she didn't feel the need to speak and she finished the apples without cutting off her fingers.

"And we have the GPS if I don't," I said, pulling her against my chest in a quick hug. She laughed, twining her arms around mine and leaning backward into me. She smelled like heaven on earth. I breathed it in deeply and put all my mental energy into her, this, the moment.

I knew nothing would go wrong for the rest of the day.

* * *

_EN: I had this ready to publish on Friday but was visiting my old friends in Pittsburgh and had neither the time nor the WiFi to publish. I may need two weeks to publish the rest of Saturday because it needs to be at **least** 3,000 words... it's going to be good, for sure. Don't forget to read the companion piece to this story, _This Infatuation_, which features Bella's POV, Edward and everything that Jasper doesn't know about! _


	42. The Questionnaire

**A word of thanks to my faithful reviewers sunystone, halesgirl101, slc6548, Pollyjp, dancexwithxme... and many more! Also, I wish my myriad of new followers and favoriteers a very happy chapter! **

Intox 42

Bella insisted on driving her truck to the trailhead. I was immediately suspicious that her dad had low-jacked the vehicle, but, since I wouldn't have offered to drive her anyway, I let her drive. We threw our backpacks into the truck bed and hopped in, leaving the house and the window lurkers behind.

As we rumbled down Rte 101 toward the rainforest visitor's center, I leaned back and propped my feet on Bella's dashboard. She drove slowly, a rare treat after years of Edward's driving, and I didn't need to grab the door handle or cringe around curves. Instead, I skimmed the pile of mail on the seat as a pretense for watching her smile.

Despite the lovely scenery sitting to my left, I couldn't help but crave the clear sky. I squinted out the window, too excited by the Texas-style sunlight to keep my eyes off the deep blue above. I wanted to enjoy it before we got under tree canopy, but the morning was bright enough to sting my blue eyes.

I turned into the dim cab and blinked furiously. Bella, her deeply pigmented eyes untroubled by the weather, laughed and told me where her sunglasses were. I dug them out of the glove box, wiped the dust off them and slid them on. The large plastic frames were so big they encompassed about half my face, but the daylight was immediately tolerable.

We passed through town to get to the trail head, and I was surprised the level of bustle on Main Street. Traffic was slowed to a crawl, and I had time to point out her friends Angela and Ben moseying toward the farmer's market. She jumped in her seat like a kid going to the circus and asked if it was okay if we pulled over, which was rhetorical because we'd already parked against the curb and honked. I jerked upright and rolled down the window.

Angela ran to the cab and nearly stopped short when she recognized me. This was my first impression on one of Bella's friends, and I wanted to make it a good one … but I just couldn't help myself.

"Why hello little lady," I drawled. "You want some candy?"

Bella elbowed me back from the window, giggling. I flipped open the small mirror, saw my reflection and understood Bella's reaction. Angela waited and smiled, still uncertain. My unshaven face and bug-eye glasses had probably shocked her. I extended my hand.

"Jasper Hale," I said, "we know each other but haven't met." I grinned and then, looking past her, greeted Ben. We smiled awkwardly at each other while the girls hashed out plans for shopping on Wednesday. Neither of us made a move to speak.

After a few minutes, Angela stepped back. "Well, uh, have fun!" She looked between us, grinning. I was finally in on the joke; they'd been talking about me at some point. I smirked. It didn't hurt my ego.

We pulled away, and I couldn't resist. "So, Bella Swan has been talking about me, eh?"

She blushed and nearly stalled the truck at the intersection. "We discussed dating qualifications," she said after a moment, trying to maintain dignity now that I'd caught her.

"Is there something I should know?" I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye but said nothing.

"When you say qualifications, do you mean I'd have to fill out a dating application or something?" I imagined the absurdity of filling out a formal questionnaire to date just _anybody_ and then thought that I wouldn't mind... for Bella.

"Only if you're interested," she said dismissively. I looked out at the road but felt her sneak a quick glance; I think I could always feel her watching me.

My heart danced in its bony prison. "Lemme hear some of the questions before I decide," I said, doing my best to not care and failing.

She thought for a moment. I could see by the crooked expression on her face that she was thinking hard on which one to give me. This could be very good or terribly bad. I tossed her sunglasses up on the dash and steeled myself for the bad.

"Well, he has to be taller than me," she said finally.

_Check._

"That's easy for anyone," I teased.

"He _has_ to read," she continued, her face serious. I could tell she was adamant about this one.

_Check!_

"Like, Kurt Vonnegut read or Jane Austen read?" I asked before she could skip onward, "because no man's going to admit that the end to _Mansfield Park_ was heartwarming and dreamy."

She gave me a look. _The_ look. "Isn't it, though?"

"_No,"_ I lied flatly.

She smirked. It was like she knew. She'd never been in my room or snooped through my shelves, which may or may not hold a worn copy of _Mansfield Park_ in between _The Art of War _and _A Clockwork Orange_, but she had figured me out. And I prided myself on being able to lie.

I should've gone used the silence to plead my case, but we almost missed our turn because Bella wasn't sure whether the road "looked like our road." I slammed into the door as she slammed on the breaks and turned left. For a split second I thought I would go through the glass or at least smash my face into a bloody pulp, but I caught myself in time. The truck didn't flip, and we turned safely down the dirt road into the forest's shade.

She took one me and stopped the truck. The air outside was soft and earthy, but I smelled hints of asphalt and gasoline wafting through the years. My jaw was clenched and my body stiff. I flinched when Bella touched my hand, but she grabbed my attention. She was worried.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was soft.

"You're _such_ a woman driver," I joked weakly, still unable to breathe. It was the only thing I could think to say without upsetting her more.

"I'm sorry." She rubbed her thumb across my knuckles, leaving my skin tingling in her wake, and gave me a pleading look. This was Bella, sweet and genuine, and I couldn't be angry with her when she felt so bad.

"I'm not angry," I mumbled, my mind clouded by her intoxicating presence, "but have I ever told you how much I hate cars?"

She straightened and restarted the truck. My skin felt the ghost of her touch in featherlike sensations, and I shivered. I hadn't wanted her to let go.

"I kinda just guessed," she said as she pulled back onto the road. "You can tell me about it someday." I nodded.

There was nothing more to say for the rest of the drive, but the silence was comfortable. When we parked at the trail head, the conversation lit up again after I tried to convince Bella to let me carry her luggage. An middle aged couple in khakis and floppy sun hats watched our back-and-forth. She argued that it would be mean to make me carry everything just because she was a girl, which I didn't have a good comeback to because it was true.

So I kissed her and stopped the argument in its tracks. She squealed in surprise, her breath catching as I cupped my hands around her face, and clenched my shirt in her hands to pull me closer. We bumped into the side of her truck and both snickered; I put an arm on the cab to steady us and trailed kisses along her jaw. She gasped when I nibbled her ear, and I released her and turned to rearrange her backpack into my own.

She clutched the side of her truck, face flushed. "You jerk!" she said when she could breathe again, "you did that on purpose!"

I laughed and tossed her the canister of pepper spray. I could hear the older couple chuckling. "Yeah, but I left you something to carry."

She tried to glower at me but failed. I handed her a jacket like a gentleman, tightened my bootlaces and stretched. The skin on my back was always taut; I grimaced and stretched until it wasn't sore. Bella waited impatiently, her weight continually rebalancing until I slung an arm over her shoulder and started walking.

I took big strides, so she had to keep up with me, but it was soon apparent that she was tripping over her feet on my account. I released her and tried to slow myself.

"Thanks!" she said once she noticed. "It's always such a pain walking anywhere; my legs have to do double the walking."

It took me a minute to realize she was joking. I laughed. I'd never thought of it from her perspective. Life at her pace was a meandering stroll for me. I could pause to examine the shrubbery and dripping ferns while she walked on and catch up before she'd gone more than twenty feet. If it meant she had time to meander, too, I supposed I could slow down a bit.

We followed the path for three miles until it wound into the low-lying segment of the forest and festered into a mud pit. We stood at the brink and studied the washed out path in dismay, and I made an executive decision to head for higher ground. Going forward was unthinkable and the day was too young to head home yet. Calling it quits just after noon was a waste of time, so I gave our GPS unit a once-over and started climbing.

Little did I know that Bella was part mountain goat. The ground had been soft in the valley, but once we cleared the first ridge it firmed and Bella found her footing. She scrambled nimbly up the mossy rocks while I lugged along after her, weighed down by my backpack and an incredible lack of exercise.

I staggered to my feet at the top of a hill three ridges above our trail and gasped in a deep breath. Cool wind blew across the plateau, rippling the short grasses that were emerging after winter. Bella's eyes were close as she faced the breeze, beauty written in the peaceful expression on her face. I caught my breath and meandered over.

"So, about these 'dating conditions' you've got…" I trailed off, dropping the heavy backpack at my feet.

She turned and raised an eyebrow. Our eyes locked momentarily as she smiled at me, and my heart jerked in my chest. I blinked and realized how close we had gravitated to each other.

"He has to have a sense of humor," she said in a voice so soft I had to lean in to hear it.

"The last time I told a joke, the other guy tried to kill himself," I said, unable to look away. _Oh, _God_, she was killing me._

She smiled.

_Check!_

I brushed a strand of her bang back behind her ear and knelt in the soggy ground to unpack my water from the pack. She crouched beside me and grabbed her water, and then we decided _what the hell_ and unpacked the tarp to sit on while we ate lunch. The sky was a blue dome spotted with thick white clouds and a tree line that shielded us from most of the wind gusting in from the north.

"Hey, Jasper," she said. The tarp fluttered underneath the weights we'd put on it. I looked up from my pack, where I'd been extracting a cigarette from its crumpled pack, and folded my legs beneath me.

Smoke floated up and was caught by the wind, and I watched her shift unconsciously. She thought she was comfortable with my presence, but her body said differently. Her instincts told her I was dangerous, that I was tainted and she should contaminate herself; I would never understand how she ignored herself so thoroughly. _Did she have no self preservation?_

"Hey, Bella," I rejoined lazily, the cigarette dangling dangerously from my lips. I tossed her a sandwich and unwrapped my own.

"Have you – do you play an instrument?"

I shook my head. "I used to play guitar," I said. Unable to maintain eye contact, I let my eyes roam.

"Oh." She took a bite of her sandwich and studied it intently. "Why'd you stop?"

I picked at my food with a grimace. I thought of my dad setting me up on his knee to show me his guitar. I thought of the taut strings pressing into my fingertips and how good it had felt to play those first wavering notes after being in wrist restraints for so long. I remembered playing accompaniment to Edward's piano – it had taken him _months_ to convince me to open my dad's case – and the day Maria had smashed my fingers with a dictionary because I wouldn't stop playing while she was trying to sleep.

I cleared my throat. "I wasn't good enough to go anywhere with it, so I decided to stop wasting time."

She snorted and cut me without words. I felt disgusted that I'd even told her. She hadn't wanted a real answer from me, but I'd gone and humiliated myself anyway. She put a hand over her mouth and tried not to laugh.

"You're not seriously mad, are you?" she said finally when she looked up. She reached over and put a hand on mine; I wanted to flinch away from it but couldn't. Instead, I looked at the gathering clouds and tried not to grit my teeth.

"I didn't mean to laugh at you," she said. Her hand rested on mine but did not move as she leaned closer. "But you've _got_ to see how stupid it sounds. It's like saying that you won't study because you aren't sure whether you'll get an 'A' or that you don't eat apples because they'll just become cores."

I sighed. "Well, don't they?"

She didn't laugh until I picked up an apple slice and bit into it. She smacked me playfully and rolled with laughter. I didn't think the joke was so funny, but perhaps it was situational humor. I preferred to think myself a hapless comedian rather than admit she was still laughing at me. Then it occurred to me that this had a question on her dating list.

We laid around talking about everything from Jack Black to Beck, our bodies neither close nor far enough from each other. I was just within arm's reach but unable to move closer. I imagined an anti-Bella boundary drawn between us – or maybe I was still afraid that my touch could crush her.

So I balled my jacket beneath my head and stretched out. The cool air was refreshing, relaxing. Bella had sprawled out next to me, eyes closed, and I considered that even more peaceful than anything I could conjure up. I let my eyes shut, and then I was drifting in the breeze and the moist smell of Spring and the rustling of leaves.

The sky was dim. The air was cold. I bolted upright, my eyes wide as I took in the looming clouds. My breath was racing.

"We need to go. Now," I said.

I looked to Bella. She turned her head up at the sky as if noticing it for the first time, and then we were both scrambling to shove everything into my backpack and put our shoes on and gather the tarp all at once. The morning had been sunny, but late afternoon was going to be a bitch.

We ran for the tree line and barely made it before the rain started. It wasn't a nice, misting rain or even the typical drizzle we got in town. It was a storm, complete with thunder, lightning and wind. I flinched at the cold spray hitting me and looked forward; it was dark beneath the evergreens.

"Oh, Goddamnit, how the fuck did I not see this coming?" I cursed, vehemently. "It would. It fuckin' _would_ do this to me." Bella looked shocked.

Rain blew in from the meadow and dripped through the thick pine covering. I moved us farther into the woods, spitting curses, and dug for the tarp. We fashioned a tent behind a wide tree using tarp and two low branches. I spread out my jacket to keep her dry and commenced pacing in the limited space.

"I'm fucked. Completely fucked." My hands were shaking. I turned. Bella looked up at me, her face apprehensive, but said nothing. "This is my fault. All my fault_._ I'm such an idiot!" I paced. I wanted to hit something.

"You need to take a chill pill," she said after I'd ranted for five straight minutes.

"Believe me, I wish I had one," I snipped, wringing my hands together. The rain was relentless, and I was too tall for the makeshift tent. I kicked the tree.

I heard rustling and the flick of my lighter. I turned and saw Bella with a cigarette to her lips. The ember glowed red and burnt bright as she inhaled, the smoke curling up around her. It stopped me instantly. A shiver rippled south to my groin. _Sexy._

Then she sputtered, coughed and held it out to me. "Here."

I swiped it from her fingers and sat down beside her with a sigh. "Thanks."

We sat while I smoked. My lips moved silently. My body crackled with tension. I scratched at my neck until Bella took my hand in hers and pressed it against her thigh. She threaded her fingers through mine. Neither of us spoke.

"Did I fall asleep?" I asked finally in an exhale of smoke.

She nodded.

I groaned. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Bella. I didn't mean to-"

She held up a hand. "You looked terrible this morning, Jasper, so don't apologize. Do you _ever_ sleep?"

My sheepish look betrayed me. "I'm a bit of an insomniac," I said, studying the glowing dregs of my sanity.

"See?" She'd proven her point. "Plus, you have this adorable way of snoring-"

"I do not!"

She collapsed into laughter. "- and this entire situation! This would only happen to me-"

"Or me," I interjected.

"-or you," she corrected herself with a sigh and leaned a head on my shoulder, still laughing.

"Your dad is going to kill me," I moaned, talking over her reassurances, "and I don't mean in a metaphoric way. He's gonna murder me. I never _did_ him a reason to like me."

The wind rustled our blue plastic walls. Bella shivered despite her jacket. I tossed my spent cigarette and wrapped an arm awkwardly around her. It felt good to be so close to someone.

"Do you do pot? Is that why my dad doesn't like you?"

The question blindsided me. I stared at her for a moment, knowing my mouth was agape but unable to close it. I looked at the tarp, at the trees in the distance… at my feet. _How was I supposed to answer that?_

"We should really get going," I said, standing. It would be getting dark soon.

She glared up at me. "I'll take that as a yes. You were totally stoned when we gave you a ride home that day, weren't you?"

There was nowhere left to look but at her. If my face didn't properly express how awkward I felt, I would have to carve a sign into my forehead and let her read the blood. She kept looking at me… just _watching_ me. I rubbed my elbows reflexively.

"Yeah, somethin' like that," I admitted.

She nodded to herself and stood. Her expression was unreadable. I had a terrible feeling that I'd just gotten the last and most important answer on her questionnaire wrong.

"We should probably head back to the truck," she said.

_Goddamnit._

_

* * *

_

**I'm grinning like a Cheshire cat right now; that's how much I loved this chapter! Review and let me know your favorite part, too!  
**_**(Chapter 43 may be up Friday... or the next.)**_


	43. That Stupid Questionnaire

Intox 43.

I slid my jacket over my shoulders with a shiver that wasn't because of the temperature in our little tent. Bella leaned against the broad trunk of our tree; arms crossed, she watched me cower from her. _She probably enjoyed it, too._ I felt miserable for ruining the entire afternoon.

She hadn't said anything yet. I waited, but she persisted in silence. With a sigh, I tugged down our tarpaulin roof and rolled it up. Rain dripped through the canopy and ran down my neck. I shouldered my bundle, and still she stood watching me, her face scrutinizing under the hood of her jacket.

She led the way into the first ravine, and I followed with an exasperated sigh. If she didn't want to talk to me, I could live with that. _Except that I couldn't_. I couldn't take it the loneliness of being ignored.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked, close behind her.

"No."

_Lies._

I bent to avoid a low-hanging branch and caught Bella as she slipped. The pine floor was deceptively firm; underneath the needles, rain had already turned the entire hillside into a muddy embankment. Rocks we had climbed earlier were slick and hazardous, and Bella couldn't go within twenty feet of those zones and make it out alive.

"Are you upset with me?" I persisted.

She turned away and shrugged free. "_No_." Her voice was emphatic. I was forced to stare at the back of her green hood as she continued to walk ahead.

We walked in silence, and it felt more like me chasing her than anything else. I was despondent, even panicky. The edges of the forest had become soft as the canopy turned deciduous and we entered the first ravine. The rain dripped through, and it was hard to keep track of my footing and our direction and Bell at the same time.

I slipped with a curse and slid halfway down a gully before coming to a stop. I grabbed a dangling vine and pulled myself out of the ditch; my boots and pants were soaked in runoff and debris. Excess rain showered me and had plastered my hair to my scalp.

Bella caught up with me slowly and stood passively. I looked around at what I could see of our surroundings before swiping my hair out of my eyes and squinting up at her.

"I need the GPS," I sputtered and sat down.

Water had dripped down my neck and up my legs; I was too soaked to care about sitting in mud. I dug through our things and pulled out the device, muttering to myself aloud. When the LED screen lit up, I checked our last coordinates and waited. It told me what I already knew: we weren't where we were supposed to be. I explained the situation to thin air and, when I got no response, turned in exasperation to Bella.

"Are you going to fuckin' talk to me or what?" I demanded. "You know, you can't just ignore me. It's not fighting fair!"

"I'm thinking." Her face scrunched.

"About what?" I just wanted to know already. _Just let me know._

"Nothing," she answered simply with a little frown that I matched. Frustrated, I looked back at the GPS and brushed my hair out of my eyes again.

"Keep thinking," I snapped and pointed southeast, "because we're supposed to be two miles _that_ way."

She held onto a tree for support and stretched so she could see where I was pointing. It was useless. She groaned, and I felt a twinge in my heart. I sighed.

"I'm sorry," I said.

She looked surprised. "For what?"

"Whatever I did to make you so upset."

She told me again that she was just thinking, but I didn't believe her and that ended our dialogue on the subject. We retraced our path, trying to find a way down that didn't involve sheer drops or slick, mossy rocks, and found another gully. Despite my paranoia that a wave of water would hurl rocks and pin us down until we drowned, Bella hopped into the waterway and began descending. I followed.

We stumbled down the incline, glad for the intermittent flares of lightning that gave us a sense of direction. When she slipped, I caught her and she pushed herself away. My teeth chattered. I felt cold inside and out. I wanted something to distract me from the miserable thoughts racing through my overactive imagination.

"Just tell me what you're thinking," I insisted once we got to the bottom of the hill. "Something. _Anything._ It doesn't even have to be true."

"Jasper, I just want to get to my truck," she said. Her voice skirted around an aggravated tone and ended up sounding only irritated.

"Because being dry will really matter at that point," I goaded.

Bella wasn't humored. She turned on me so fast I nearly fell backward. "What is wrong with you?" she yelled.

"_You!_" I shouted back at her, gesturing wildly. "Could you just tell me your problem or get the fuck over it already?"

The brief flicker of light allowed me to see her face before she turned away and began walking again. There was something familiar there. _Pain. _The memory hid in her downturned lips and the mournful wrinkle of her brow. I wondered how I could have been callous enough to miss it.

"I'm sorry," I called out, and this time she didn't dismiss me. She allowed me to catch up, but she didn't look at me as she began talking.

"I had this friend, Liam, in high school – in Phoenix – that lived next door. He got teased because his family was from Ireland, and he was really standoffish in school to the point of being a jerk. Most kids didn't like him, and the ones that tolerated him… well, I guess you'd call them delinquents.

"We didn't really talk at school; he smoked beneath the bleachers with the older kids, and I went to study hall. But at _home_," she said, her voice lighting up, "we were best friends. He would invite himself over to study or play board games, and before we knew it his mom would be calling for him to come home and it was 10 p.m. We rode our bikes to the ice cream hut and talked over banana milkshakes, and once I dared him to kiss me and he did … and then one day he told me how cool his friends were and how fun it was to smoke pot."

She turned finally and gave me a look that said we were getting to the point. "It's not that you smoked – or smoke – weed, Jasper. I'm a cop's daughter, but I don't have a stick up my butt about it. I've tried pot, and I just don't like it. It smells bad and I always overeat."

It was like the forest had disappeared and we were sitting on her porch discussing lemonade recipes. I was officially confused by her abbreviated retelling of the friendship. I told her so. She shrugged her shoulders and continued,

"Well, I didn't realize until I was visiting him in the hospital that it wasn't _just_ weed. He led me on for a year, _confiding_," she spat the word in contempt, "in me about his troubles and friends, and I bought it. Turns out I was too sheltered to realize that kids raided medicine cabinets and traded the pills at parties."

_Only the stupid kids_, I thought. Considering that she'd been so deceived by one of her friends – _could I call him a crush?_ – it wasn't hard to understand her reaction to me. She saw it as a dangerous gateway drug. I couldn't decide whether I felt angry at him or just sick with myself.

"I never found out what cocktail of pills he took, but, then again, I don't want to know; it almost killed him. I tried to yell at him, but I always end up crying when I'm that angry, so he never got just how betrayed I felt.

"When he got out, it wasn't the same. He stopped coming over to my house, stopped talking to me, and then he moved. Sometimes I wondered whether he ever liked me."

We reached the spine of the final ridge and began our descent. Her story was finished but the pain lingered. It was in the rain, the wind, the earthy scent of the forest around us. It poisoned our day, overshadowing everything with its immensity. I was angry at it for making her so cynical and melancholic.

"You know, I'm not Liam," I offered, "and I'm not _like_ him, either."

"It's hard to be sure," she sighed, and I was sure we had moved to another topic. It wasn't just about drugs; I was an idiot for missing the undertones. I think I was just an idiot around Bella, period.

I helped her over a thick tree trunk so she wouldn't fall into the mud. "Oh come on! You know I like you."

"Do I?"

"I like you," I declared, focusing intently on my footing as I scrambled over the fallen tree myself. On the other side, I brushed off my hands and straightened. We studied each other through the rain. "I don't like anyone, but I like _you_," I elaborated.

We walked quietly – together this time – and the air felt lighter. She leaned on me for support in the slick terrain, and just her touch was comforting. _Maybe_ she believed me. _Maybe_ she had allowed herself to believe my words. I wasn't lying; I willed her to know that, even if I was a jackass, I wasn't lying.

We reached a drop-off and decided to tackle the obstacle rather than spend another half hour stumbling through the darkness for an easier way down. I dropped my pack over the edge and, once satisfied that it wasn't a cliff face, held onto her while she shimmied down the rocky overhang. Her feet danced for footing. I lowered her an inch. She steadied herself, panting, and released my hand.

"It's easier than I thought. Come on down," she said.

My doubts on whether I could trust her assessment were answered a second later when I heard a splash. She squealed. I couldn't see her from this distance in the dark.

"You okay?"

"It's _wetter_ than I thought, too," she called up. "I was standing on the backpack."

I swung myself over the edge and dropped into mud up to my ankles. From my right, Bella was extracting herself from the gloppy pond. I turned to follow her lead but staggered and lost my footing. We collided as I fell, our heads knocking together and bodies tangling.

I laughed. She had managed to stay clean all day while I had been dirty within minutes. That she had lasted until the end of our adventure only to end up beneath me in six inches of mud was the funniest scenario I could have imagined. Something like this would only happen to us.

"Alive?" I chuckled down at her and brushed the hair out of her face.

She squeaked as my muddy hand slicked her clean hair back and traced a path along the curve of her jaw. She slopped a thick handful of mud into the side of my head. It worked its way into my ear and dripped on Bella, but we were too busy laughing to care about stains.

I kissed her chastely on the lips and rolled off. She pulled herself up. The mud squelched and tried to drag us back.

We floundered to the edge. I flopped onto my back there and waited until I heard Bella drop beside me. I rolled onto my side, but she couldn't see me in the darkness anyway.

"This will all seem less dramatic in the morning."

"I think I have a bruise on my forehead," she moaned.

"At least you didn't see a banana slug," I said. We both shuddered, and I had the strangest urge to kiss her. I surprised myself what I did instead.

I should admit at this point that I'd never asked anyone out before. Things had kind of just _happened_ with Maria until we'd been forcibly separated. I didn't want that with Bella; I wanted her to be the opposite of everything I'd had in Alaska. So, while I could have said any number of cool phrases or repeated a variety of pick up lines that Emmett had taught me, I actually said,

"Bella, go with me."

"Where?" Had I been less impulsive in asking, I would have prepared for how clueless she was. I was just as stumped as her.

"_Out_, like … to a place at a specified time. Together. As a date… as my girlfriend." Now I just sounded dumb.

She understood me, but I didn't like her answer. She made it sound like she had to tally scores and submit the answers for special analysis. We debated. I hadn't expected to ask, let alone get an answer like this. _Stupid questionnaire._

"C'mon," I pleaded, "five out of seven ain't bad."

"Six out of nine," she corrected me.

_ Nine?_ I hadn't seen that coming. I did the math quickly and came up with a measly sixty-five percent. _Ouch._ I knew which answer had thrown me out of the running.

"I'll play the guitar for you," I bargained quickly. She snorted in disbelief, but I was serious. "I'll serenade you with guitar ballads," I promised with a hand over my heart.

"We still don't get along," she said with a smirk in her voice.

Of _course_ we didn't get along; both of us had known from day one that our relationship was like cats and dogs: it had its good moments but existed primarily as a string of interrelated and entertaining spats. A weight lifted from my shoulders as I realized she was just fucking with me.

I sighed in relief and chuckled. "I guess you'll have to live with that one."

"If you're going to be so stubborn about it," she laughed, rolling to face me, "I suppose I'll _have_ to date you, but you owe me a ballad!"

I would have agreed, but she kissed me and I forgot how to speak. Her fingers threaded through my hair, and my body shivered. Her lips parted against mine, and my control wavered.

I pulled her on top of me, forgetting to be gentle or even a gentleman as my hands landed on her waist and moved up. I wanted her touchable, soft, close, _warm_. I wanted fire. Her breath hitched as my cold fingers brushed under her shirt, and suddenly thinks-with-his-big-head Jasper realized where we were. I froze.

"Bella." I struggled to breathe. "It's raining."

She nodded into the crook of my neck. My arms were shaking as I pushed her off me gently and sat up. I gulped in air.

"Need a minute?" she teased as she got to her feet.

_"Ohmygod,"_ I breathed, pissed that I actually _did_ need a minute while she was unfazed. I choked down air like it was water and hoped that I could breathe out the sexual tension. When I could think again, it occurred to me that she'd done this on purpose. I thanked God it was dark. _Fucking karma. _And yet I couldn't help but grin as I stood to follow my girlfriend.

We walked close, our intertwined fingers ready to pull us back if we strayed. The ground was too slippery and we were too soaked to run, but our pace quickened anyway as soon as the truck came into view around the bend. Once my door was open, I unlocked the driver's side door and unrolled our blue tarp across the seats before she could slosh her way around the truck.

We shut out the rain and piled our jackets at my feet. The truck rumbled to life and we reached for the heat dial simultaneously; our icy fingers touched before I drew back. I put my hands over the vent and saw her do the same from the corner of my eye. I smiled.

The truck rumbled home at an ambling pace. I was grateful for it because my body was worn through and I just wanted to relax, a statistical improbability in a moving vehicle. The heat and dampness fogged the windows from the inside; I spent the drive tracing doodles that disappeared as I drew.

We pulled to a stop in the driveway where Edward's car should be but wasn't. I vaguely remembered his offhand mention of going to Seattle with Alice. I was relieved at his absence. It meant less patronizing bullshit and fewer questions about why we looked as if we'd been mauled by a swamp beast.

I opened the side garage door and we slipped into absolute darkness. Bella stumbled into me immediately and gripped my hand. I did my best to keep her out of trouble, but stumbling through Rose's miniature machine shop made it difficult. I tripped after running into my second toolbox and winced as what I assumed were crescent wrenches went crashing to the concrete floor. Bella jumped. I cursed and finally reached the light switch.

We pulled off our boots and socks, leaving only grimy feet to pad across Esme's white tiles and hardwood floors. Bella insisted on picking up the scattered tools and spent ten minutes organizing the ratchets and screw drivers from the crescent wrenches. I watched her work, curious to see what Rose's reaction would be when she realized someone had been in her space; she was territorial and messy.

"Thanks for the help," Bella said dryly as she rejoined me at the door.

"I don't touch Rose's workshop," I said with a smirk. "She punched me last time."

Unable to decide whether I was serious, Bella chuckled humorlessly. I _was_ serious. Rose had punched me – granted, it had been a "love tap," but the girl was a kick boxer and I bruised easily. It had hurt.

Emerging from the garage, it only took me a fraction of a second to notice movement on the stairs and panic.

_"Fuck!"_ I shouted. Every instinct screamed at once, and flight won. I flinched backward violently, dropping Bella's hand as I moved to protect my face. My body curled in on itself and stiffened.

"God, Jasper, you scared the bejeezus out of me!"

I opened my eyes and only moved out of my threatened hedgehog pose when I saw it was just Carlisle at the top of the stairs. I sighed with relief and padded into the foyer. Bella's hand found mind as I pulled her in behind me. He surveyed our collective dishevelment. I wanted to address the issue before he could, but I quickly forgot my intentions.

"Is that my baseball bat?"

He looked at it and quickly set it against the wall. "I thought you were an intruder," he said defensively. _Yeah, the loudest intruders ever_.

"Can we come up?" I gestured to Bella and made an abbreviated introduction. "I'm not going to say who, but one of us fell into a mud puddle."

Behind me, Bella snorted, and Carlisle smiled knowingly. He was a smart man. His gears always ran quicker than a clock's. He ushered us up two flights of stairs and presented us to Esme.

She gasped. I hoped it had to do with the mud we tracked through the house but dropped Bella's hand to be sure. Relief flooded my system a moment later when Esme began to talk aloud, sizing up Bella for pants and a top. I saw the panic in Bella's eyes; wearing slacks and blouses was not her forte.

"Esme, she can just wear some of mine. I've got spare," I interrupted.

I jerked my thumb down the hall to my room and tried not to wince at how the comment would be taken. Esme paused and looked at us. Her eyes widened as she studied the situation, our proximity and too-innocent faces, before turning to Carlisle for confirmation. The look they shared was pure glory.

She nodded and tugged Bella toward Alice's bathroom, shooing me away to get the clothes. I padded to my room and back and dropped off a set of clothes for Bella before heading for the other bathroom. Unusually, I wanted a cold shower. A very, _very_ cold shower.

* * *

**Thank you to my lovely reviewers from last chapter! I appreciate all the comments, encouragements and input on the story... probably more than you believe. Thanks to bookhaven for adding me on alert this time around, and the others who added My Intoxication to their favorites list. Wowzer!**

**Hope everyone had a happy St. Patrick's Day (I dropped my phone into my pint of Guinness and then, panicking, ran it under the tap -_- ... stupid me)! I'll see you all in a Friday or two! ~Mandala M.**


	44. The Guitar

Intox 44

The upstairs was quiet when I opened the bathroom door. Mud dried on the floor, which I would have to clean later, but all other evidence of our disturbance had disappeared. The hall was dim and empty. I smelled dinner cooking downstairs.

My feet padded softly down the stairs and through our open sitting room to the kitchen. Esme and Carlisle were at the island, preparing dinner together like they often did on the weekends when he didn't pick up shifts. Their smiles and natural harmony said everything. I paused in the doorway and watched without intruding; sometimes I forgot how young they were.

I saw Bella in the breakfast nook sipping tentatively on a steaming mug. Her eyes were absorbed in the couple that could dice peppers and garlic on the same chopping block without moving apart or mixing ingredients. She toyed with the drawstrings of the flannel pants I'd given her.

"What's taking him so long?" she said.

Carlisle shrugged as I entered the kitchen. "He takes longer than Alice sometimes," he said.

"_Not_ true," I retorted. I stepped onto our bench and over Bella to sit on the inside, tracing a finger across her shoulders. She shuddered; goosebumps rose on her pale skin. I took a drink of her tea before she could protest and smiled.

"They're messing with you. They know you can't take longer to get ready than Alice." I peered around Bella and shot the pair an arch look. They conceded the point. You can't deny the truth, after all.

We ate dinner in the kitchen nook because there weren't enough people to warrant setting the dining room table. I picked at the food on my plate and chimed in absently as needed. Bella and Esme discussed the wainscoting – but not in an awkward way. Bella had installed some for her mom when she lived in Phoenix – I was curious as to how she'd gotten through unscathed – and was genuinely interested in something so mundane. _I sure knew how to pick women._

It didn't take long for Esme to ask Bella how we'd met. My eyes widened dangerously as Bella hesitated, deferring to me. Carlisle said it first:

"Oh, Esme, this is the girl Jasper went to Seattle with."

Her mouth formed a small "o" and she took a sip of her water before smiling apologetically. I couldn't keep the discomfort off my face. I stabbed a green listlessly and dropped my fork.

"Can we not talk about that?"

Esme gave me a sad smile. She turned to Bella. "So, that means you've already met his little sister?"

I groaned. I knew where the conversation was going. Bella looked between the three of us, confused, before I said,

"Rosalie."

"She's your _little_ sister?" Bella's eyes were wide.

I chuckled. "By about 15 minutes."

Her nose scrunched as she processed the new information. "But you're not in college," she said before clasping her hands over her mouth, surprised. Her verbal filter was lacking. I worked vigorously to dislodge an imaginary piece of spinach from my molars.

"That's a funny story." I scratched behind an ear. "Funny but _long_."

The story _was _long. Well, not the story itself, but I didn't want to have to explain to my new girlfriend the details of my institutionalization when I was thirteen. Some people wouldn't see the rationality in throwing yourself down a flight of stairs or taking a broken mirror to your chest. Until I knew whether she was one of them, I wasn't planning to have _that_ conversation.

Thankfully, Carlisle rewound the dialogue. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he brought it back to Rosalie by asking whether they'd gotten along. I could never tell if she was his favorite or just one of the kids, but he held her close to his heart despite her temper. Or maybe it was _because _of her temper.

"She was nice," Bella said with a shrug. The slight hesitation in her voice told me she was lying.

"Five bucks says I can call Emmett right now and get the truth," I said. "Someone dare me. I want money."

Bella blushed furiously and tried to protest. "She was just upset. Really, given the circumstances, I understand."

_No she didn't._ Rose should've been the older twin. She had a mean streak when it came to me and other women. She'd been suspicious when she met Alice, but they grew to like each other after bonding over fashion. It was Maria, really, that sent her over the edge; from then on she made a point of scaring away women – not that I had minded. I'd enjoyed her protection. It saved me the trouble of trying to care. _Now_, though, it pissed me off.

Carlisle chuckled. "She can be difficult to get used to."

My fists clenched. I took three deep breaths and made a mental note to text Emmett. Once my head was clear, I picked up my fork again and cleared my plate.

After dinner, Bella and I excused ourselves to the music room. Carlisle and Esme looked surprised – they knew I hadn't played my guitar in years – but hardly hesitated to let us go. I knew they were trying to be supportive, but I wished they _had _made a bigger deal of it. I was sensitive and intensely paranoid about playing the instrument, which my dad had left me when he died. If I'd thought earlier instead of just blurting out an offer to Bella, I wouldn't have put the guitar up as a bargaining chip. I hated acting on impulse; I always regretted it later.

The music room is a large, open room with wooden floors and white walls. It's on the bottom floor of the house by the garage, out of the way so no one is disturbed by the noise. Bella had never seen it before, had probably mistaken the closed door for a coat closet, and was wowed when I turned on the lights. It isn't grandiose, but it is beautiful if you love music.

Edward's piano captured her eyes immediately, and I didn't blame her. It took up the foreground, its bulky form picturesque in the lighting. There was a small desk on the opposite side that Bella couldn't see yet, but it was undoubtedly stacked with jumbled sheet music and composition theories. The piano bench was tucked away and, if we went close enough, I knew she would see the soft fabric he rolled out to protect the keys while he was away.

One of Edward's life goals, besides annoying me and becoming a doctor, was to be a composer. He hadn't finished anything yet, but even I could admit that the pieces he _had_ written were beautiful. Everything he had ever created was peaceful enough to be a lullaby. Only vague tremors of menace ran through his songs, and even those were like cold chills that snap up the spine and disappear before you can be bothered by them.

I guided her past the piano toward the far wall where my modest set of hand-me-down gear was boxed. The floor was garnished with an Oriental rug and spotted with throw pillows. A set of bongo drums from Emmett's short-lived Rastafarian-Surfer phase sat one end of the rug while my guitar case rested in the corner.

I didn't have an amplifier or an electric tuner. I didn't have a guitar stand or a barstool. I had a box of old books halfway decimated by mildew and a leather guitar strap engraved with my father's initials that I couldn't bring myself to use. And then, of course, I had the Gibson.

Bella strayed while I laid out the case and undid the buckles. I paused and watched her slink to the drum set, her feet carefully placed so she wouldn't trip. She slapped a drumhead lightly with the palm of her hand and giggled at the sound it produced. Her face was ecstatic.

I chuckled. "Want me to have Emmett teach you next time he's out?"

She looked at me with wide eyes. "These are _his_?"

I nodded, grinning, and watched her jump back as if the drums were booby trapped. She met Em, but he hadn't been in the best mood at the time. If what I'd gleaned from Carlisle was true, she'd seen Em bear wrestle me to the ground and carry me up a flight of stairs like I was the dry cleaning. It hadn't brought out his teddy bear side – that's for sure. She had no idea just how cool my weightlifting, bongo-playing, ATV-riding brother was.

Bella plopped down one a nearby pillow and waited as I tuned my guitar by ear. I sat cross-legged on a pillow of my own and ran a hand over the glossy wood finish, enjoying the nostalgia that washed over me. She settled in, but I hesitated.

"Hey, Bella, what do you want me to play?"

"Anything," she replied. I was mystified by what that meant. _Women._

I sighed and plucked a string. I paused and struck a chord, then another and another until the melody came together and I was playing "Mary Had a Little Lamb." Bella covered her face and burst into laughter. I stopped.

"No good?"

She shook her head, still laughing. "Just… no sing-alongs!" she gasped between laughs.

I pursed my lips and nodded seriously, my hands already coordinating to play another song. I strummed the chords quickly, and the rhythm gradually caught on. It was catchy, but I didn't know its name. I'd only heard it once on the radio.

I glanced up. Bella's chin rested on her hands as she watched, her eyes lidded. She had a big smile on her face that I couldn't help but return.

"Better?" I asked and brushed the hair away from my face.

She nodded. "You're really good."

I grinned, feeling empowered by the positive feedback, and changed the song again. My fingers plucked out the opening chords in wavering tones before I launched into the Super Mario Brothers theme. I smirked when she snickered. She recognized the tune.

"Are you a gamer?" I teased, not daring to look up from the fret board.

"Can you play Kirby, too?" she asked.

I shook my head softly and smirked. "I do know the theme to Crash Bandicoot, though."

She made me play it – and about ten other themes to various games or television shows. I obliged her, making small talk all the way through a rendition of "The Love Boat." My fingers were cramped and sore, but it was worth it to know that she was amused at the music, not the musician. I could have played for her until my fingers blistered and bled.

I didn't hear Esme's sharp rap on the door. She entered a second later and cleared her throat from the doorway. We looked up, startled.

"Bella, honey, your dad called to see if you were alive."

We checked our watches simultaneously. It was past 10 p.m. and neither of us knew where the time had gone. Her face dropped, and she scrambled to her feet while I put my guitar in its case. I stood and had to stomp the blood flow back into my feet before I could catch up with her.

I gathered her shoes from the garage and walked her to the front door. We paused so she could put her boots on. I hovered, aware of Esme's eyes watching me from the stairs. When Bella stood, I rolled my eyes in that direction and leaned against the wall.

"You gonna tell him?"

She bit her lip and looked up at me. "I think I'll have to at some point."

I nodded resolutely. "Give me a heads up on the outcome, will ya?"

She smiled at me, her gaze intense, and nodded. "Thanks for being a tour guide," she said.

I grinned wryly. "Sorry for getting us lost."

"You made my day." She brushed off my apology with four words and, just like that, the last traces of our argument were forgotten.

We said our final goodbyes. I almost kissed her but, after an awkward hesitation, opened the door and let her out instead. She waved back at me as she disappeared around the corner of her truck, still wearing my pants and t-shirt. I stood in the foyer until the truck went around the bend, and only then did I shut the door and stumble upstairs.

I was half asleep when I heard them talking in the hall. It took several minutes for Esme to push open my door and enter softly. She sat at the edge of my bed; I moaned and rolled so I could see her with my bleary eyes.

"How long have you two been an item?"

"Couple hours," I mumbled, pulling my comforter over my shoulders.

She ran her fingers through my hair. "She's cute."

I nodded into my pillow.

"You can tell us about anything, okay? And if you need anything, too, just come to Carlisle or me."

_Was she about to give me the sex talk? _I knew they were aware of my reckless decision-making and my past with Maria, but I'd only asked Bella out seven hours ago. Not that I hadn't thought of it yet, but I wasn't ready to discuss it aloud. Especially with my foster parents.

"_God_, Esme," I groaned and burrowed into the blankets, "_Not _now."

"We just don't want you to move too fast, honey," she said hurriedly. She seemed to be on the verge of saying something even worse than she already had, but then she stopped herself. She kissed my forehead and let herself out.

"We'll talk about it in the morning," she said.

I didn't doubt it.

* * *

**E/N: I'm pretty busy in the next couple weeks, but I'll try to update soon. Reviews ensure you _won't_ have an awkward conversation with your parents about sex... also, the companion piece to this story was updated on Thursday... go check out "This Infatuation" when you get time. =)**


	45. On Gun Cleaning

Intox 45.

I was too tired to have nightmares, so my brain decided to shut down for twelve hours. I blinked awake half an hour before noon on Sunday, still thinking it was Saturday night. I tossed and turned until it was too hot beneath my blankets and I was too irritated at my insomnia to stay still.

I sat up. Every muscle in my body protested. My mouth was dry. My head hurt. I needed alarm clock was showing the wrong time, but then I saw gray daylight through my curtains. I swiped my cell phone off the bedside table and flipped it open.

_11:46 a.m._

I slid out of bed and dug through a pile of old laundry in the far corner of my room. Nothing was clean, but I shook out the best smelling pair of jeans and shrugged them on. I kicked some straggling shirts back into the pile and nearly tripped over the trash bucket Alice had put by my bed two weeks ago on my way to the closet. _How did it make it to the middle of the room? _I thanked God that Bella hadn't been in here. Her room was lived in but still tidy; mine looked like it had seen a bad day in tornado alley.

The pile of clothes in my closet mimicked the one in the corner – except it was primarily clean. I couldn't tell clean from dirty because of the stale cigarette smell that filled my room, so I grabbed the nearest thermal and pulled it over my head. I couldn't smoke inside anymore. The smell was really starting to disgust me. I tucked a cigarette behind my ear and stumbled downstairs.

Carlisle's cheery greeting was met with a grunt as I walked past him to the coffee pot. When he handed me my medicine, I knocked it back wordlessly and headed for the door. He didn't question me, and I was back in five minutes with a nicotine fix, ready for another cup of coffee and some breakfast.

He and Esme were sharing the newspaper in the nook over orange juice and chopped fruit. I rummaged through the refrigerator and quickly decided that peanut butter and milk was necessary. After pouring myself a pint of milk, I fetched a spoon and the half-eaten jar of peanut butter. Esme surveyed the meal I set on the table as if afraid an argument of nutrition would ensure my starvation. Her logic was biased; sometimes even I'm too hungry to starve myself out of spite.

I spooned a big glop of peanut butter and washed it down with milk. "I need to clean," I announced. "Where do we keep that stuff?"

They exchanged a look before turning to me with identical expressions. Carlisle put down his newspaper. Esme rearranged the silverware. I may not be an empath, but I can sure tell a change in mood when it's dropped in front of me.

"What?"

"It's just… well, all this is a big change for you," Carlisle said slowly. Esme nodded in agreement.

_ Wait, what? Was it really so uncharacteristic for me to clean?_ I thought for a second and realizedthat, yeah, it _was_ weird behavior. Their reaction was understandable.

"We don't want you to rush things just because of Bella," said Esme, and this time Carlisle nodded.

I raised a lone eyebrow, confused. They thought I'd jumped off the deep end, but it wasn't a passing whim; it was that, for the first time in a long time, I cared what someone thought of me. I cared for what _she _thought of me. I didn't want to be the "me" that everyone was used to. He was a useless bastard. I wanted to be useful … appealing. Surely _that_ was normal.

I sighed. "So… you don't want me to clean."

"Oh, no," said Carlisle, crinkling his nose, "you've got to clean. I can smell your room from down the hall."

"I smoked outside today," I said, crossing my arms.

Esme giggled, and I realized he'd been joking. I took a big drink of scalding coffee and spat half of it back into the mug. It would figure that I couldn't catch jokes with my own sense of humor damaged beyond recognition. I shook my head and allowed myself to make light of the situation. Cleaning my room wasfirst on my agenda, after all.

"We just want to make sure you're doing this for _you_."

"Who else for?" I asked and, just so they knew they were crazy, blinked at them. Their words were making less and less sense. Maybe this was why I generally avoided adults. _Were they all like this?_ I brushed off their sentiments, and we finished breakfast in silence.

When I got back to my room with an armload of cleaning supplies, my phone was blinking. I'd missed a call. _Bella's call._ The voicemail, an ominous "Call me when you wake up – if you slept," didn't sound promising. My stomach did one of those butterfly flips. I redialed immediately.

Her voice was chipper on the other end. "Bella's phone; Bella speaking!"

I was confused, but today was a confusing day. "Do you always answer your phone that way?"

"When I'm trying to distract someone, yeah," she replied. "My dad knows."

I forced back a groan. "You told him already?"

"More like he figured it out already," she said dryly. "He wants to talk to you."

I gulped. "Now?"

"Let's give him a few hours to cool down. How about I pick you up at three?"

I nodded, despite her being unable to see me, and said a quick goodbye.

I surveyed the mess in growing dismay. Having a couple extra hours gave me enough time to clean, but it was impossible to scour my room in time. If Bella ever saw my room like this, I was sure she'd be disgusted enough to leave me. I sat on my bed and stared at the changing numbers on the clock, clenching my fists and fighting the panic and angst and pressure… _too much pressure_… that clogged my heart as if I'd just eaten a double BigMac.

I don't know when that thought had imposed itself on me, but I wouldn't be able to focus until I'd knocked it from my brain, and I'd never figured out how. I should've figured it out over the last nine years, but I must be an idiot. When I got these weird, fixed ideas into my head, it felt like a war between reason and paranoia. Only one thing had ever broken the stalemate.

I scrambled to my dresser and hauled the top drawer open. It was nearly empty, but I shook out each garment inside and threw it behind me. My fingers prodded the far recesses, finding nothing. I slammed the drawer and moved to the next, repeating the motions and still finding nothing. I emptied the bottom drawer and sat back on my haunches and thought, hands shaky as I tapped them against my murmuring lips. My eyes lit upon the box of junk I kept on my dresser, and I dumped the contents on the floor only to find that the pine cone had fallen apart and there was no purpose to holding onto that toy soldier I'd melted in Alaska.

I wanted to scream at Alice. I wanted to call her and shout until she hung up on me. It would make her cry, and even that didn't bother me because it was her. She was the only one who had _ever_ seen my stash. Edward rarely went past the doorway – he said it was something to do with catching diseases that bred in dust – and the parental figures tried to respect our privacy. I _knew_ it was her.

Bella would say I needed a chill pill, and perhaps I did. My mind raced through all the places I'd hidden pills that Alice knew about. She knew most of them, but I checked each one anyway.

I looked beneath the dresser.

_Gone._

I checked inside the hollowed novel on my shelf.

_Fuck me._

I inspected the lining of my throw pillows.

_Empty, empty, empty._

I tore the sole out of my old shoes.

_ Shit._

I scrambled beneath my bed using my cell phone as a flashlight and found a pill hanging out with some dust bunnies in the corner.

_Score!_

I picked it up gently and blew the dust off it before inspecting the inscription in the LED lighting. It wouldn't do anything by itself, but I swallowed it anyway to test the placebo effect. There wasn't anything else beneath the bed because I'd scavenged the rest earlier. With a growl of frustration, I emerged and began reassembling my room.

Bella arrived an hour later as I sat on my bare mattress with my chin resting in one hand and a cigarette smoldering in the other. All my clothes were piled in a sprawling heap that tapered off into a patchwork of paper scraps. Wadded paper towels, paper clips and books were strewn across the floor. I hadn't cleaned, and I hadn't found any more pills, either. I felt quite defeated.

She knocked on door - even though it was ajar - before entering. My mind jumped, and I was on my feet to block her from the room.

"Your parents said you were -"

"Don't come in here!" I warned, waving wildly to clear the smoky air, but she'd squeezed past me.

"-cleaning?" she finished, looking at the mess with a little sniff. I rubbed my eyes forcefully and sat. Despite my intentions, I'd actually accomplished surprisingly little. It looked worse than when I started.

"I'm spring cleaning," I said defensively. "Maybe I'm not a clean freak, but I try."

She rolled her eyes and headed for my bookshelf. My eye twitched. I wasn't sure what she thought_. Was she skeeved? Was she mocking me?_ I couldn't tell.

"I knew it," she said smugly.

I looked up. Across my room, Bella sat on my desk among the piled papers, eagerly thumbing her way through a certain dog-eared book. The soft smile on her face was sweeter than any candy I'd eaten. She turned to the inside cover and looked up, her eyes soft. I knew what the fancy cursive read by heart.

_"To J._

_Love Rosie, _

_Because men are idiots who can't see in front of their noses."_

"You weren't supposed to see that," I said.

"Or your room." She grinned, "but we've clearly moved past that point." She replaced the book on my shelf and walked over. "From the way you freaked, I thought there were cockroaches and black mold."

I pulled her into a hug that she didn't try to escape from. She ran her fingers through my hair. I shuddered, more from our proximity than anything. She smelled like skin and vitality... and freesia. It felt as if things had moved so quickly, but I had to remind myself that we'd spent most of the build-up pretending not to notice.

"Give it a few days," I mumbled into her neck and she pulled away, giggling. I protested. Given the other option, being in my room all day was sounding like a good idea.

Half an hour later we were walking up the steps to her porch. I'd tried my damnedest to procrastinate with a thousand different excuses. She saw through all of them and told me to suck it up, which was why I was praying that the game on in the other room was pre-season baseball. I hated basketball.

He was seated in the overstuffed arm chair that faced the television on the far wall, and so he didn't see Bella shove me into the room when I tried to duck out. I made a mental note of the game he was watching. We sat together on the couch, and I tried to ignore the smell of gun oil.

I turned toward the screen immediately in an attempt to ignore the handgun on the coffee table, but Bella nudged me and I had to greet her father. His eyes narrowed. _Not a good sign._

"Bella, your mom called. We talked. She wants you to call her. Now." His eyes never left my face, but I turned to her with pleading eyes.

_Don't do this. Don't fucking do this to me!_

She hesitated, but her father's tone won over my mental screaming. She grabbed the house phone and headed upstairs. We listened to her footsteps move across the floorboards. The wall clock ticked. The television was mute. I glanced at the score and saw that the Mariners were down by two. He was still watching me when I looked back.

He sighed and began disassembling the gun. His hands worked with mastered precision, quick and seamless. The gun rested in seven pieces thirty seconds after he'd begun. I scratched my neck.

"Did I ever tell you how Renee and I met?" He removed a small cloth from his pocket and began wiping down the gun's metal surfaces.

I shook my head. He'd picked me up twice for truancy, once for property damage and drunken driving and another for marijuana possession, and I was sure he'd never mentioned his family. There had never been a reason. The too-pale skin on his left ring finger said enough.

"She was out on vacation from Seattle. An art major," he said, looking up briefly from his inspection of the gun chamber. My eyes were fixed on the weapon in his weathered hand.

"She went on a hike with some of her friends and got lost in the Devil's Pass. I had to go and get them." He chuckled to himself, and I pictured a younger, bare-faced Officer Swan on his way to save a damsel. "As soon as I saw her, I knew."

The floorboards upstairs creaked. I glanced up and back to her dad. He was studying me. I studied the gun barrel in his hand.

"We dated, got married. She moved here with me. She said the area was beautiful, and it _did _show in her paintings. Then we had Bella.

"Renee wanted to move, to see the world and experience everything she could. I refused to leave my dad alone in this house," he gestured to the surrounding, "and we never fought about it. The resentment just grew until she got sick of me holding her back."

He scrubbed its interior with a little wire pipe cleaner. "Bella's a lot like her mom, Jasper. Don't you dare try to clip her wings. Don't you _dare _hurt her like that."

I shook my head quickly. "No sir!"

He oiled the last component absently. "Do you know what the age of consent is in Washington?"

My eyes widened. I froze, waiting for him to keep talking, but he didn't. My heel tapped restlessly against the front of the couch. As the silence wore on, I understood he wasn't being rhetorical. I cleared my throat.

"Sixteen?"

"And you realize that number means nothing to a father?" he said, reattaching the slide to the gun body and snapping the firing block into place.

I nodded, sure my ears were pink.

"So you understand that the only time you'll be having sex with her is after you're married?"

He screwed the cylinder into place and tested whether it lined up with the barrel properly. It did. The metal gleamed in the lamplight. He looked at me, no doubt pleased with the petrified look on my face.

"She wants to go to Dartmouth. She wants to travel, to find her path – and she won't find anything here with a kid except a lifetime of could've-beens."

I heard movement on the stairs and turned. Bella traipsed into the room and sat the phone in its cradle before snuggling in next to me. I threaded my fingers through hers and held on tight. I'd never been so grateful for an intrusion in my life.

"So you treat her like she deserves, okay?" he said gruffly.

"Yes, sir." I nodded quickly. Bella gave me a reassuring squeeze. She didn't know the half of it.

I looked up at the game and saw that the Mariners had tied it up 5-5 to the Longhorns. I groaned. The Longhorns were my team; I couldn't stand to see them taken down like this, even if it was just pre-season.

Bella looked, saw the score and snorted. She grimaced in agreement and gave me a nudge. I wrinkled my nose and elbowed her back. Neither of us could keep a straight face. I chuckled. She giggled. It devolved into giggles and hysteria from there.

Her dad watched us as if contemplating the meaning of our actions. When Bella pulled herself up and ran into the kitchen for a glass of water, I turned to him, wiping my eyes with the palm of my hand.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I fucking _hate_ the Mariners."

He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were a fan of baseball."

"Well, once you've had a gun in your face in a couple times, playing ball looks like a lot more fun."

I froze, shaken by the weight of what I'd said that aloud. I almost laughed at how terrible the truth sounded. When you're exposed to violence and fear so young, it makes normal things – like playing baseball or reading a book in silence – priceless.

Bella returned and handed me a glass of water. I stared at it while she explained that she was starting dinner and Chief Swan nodded. My senses were starting to scream; it was like watching TV with saturated colors and maximized volume. It hurt.

"Hey, Bells," I interrupted, "can I use the bathroom? I'll help you cook right after."

She walked me to the stairs and pointed up. We both knew I remembered where it was.

"Are you okay? You look a little pale." She frowned.

I brushed off her concern and headed upstairs with a hand against the wall to steady myself. The bathroom was just like I remembered: average, with dust on the white baseboards and cracked sealant around the linoleum. I shut the door and took a deep breath.

I hated Ray. I hated Ray with a vengeance. All I could remember of childhood was a few moments with my dad and an eternity of _him_. He robbed me of everything else because, though I was sure my mom's face wasn't _always_ bruised and Rosie wasn't _always_ scared and he didn't _always _beat me, I couldn't recall anything except those instances.

The cold tap water felt stung my flushed face. I let it run and splashed it against my neck. The water dribbled down my collar, leaving a trail of raised hairs in its wake. My breath was shallow. It was unbearable.

I looked at myself hard in the mirror, studying the face I would hate later, and opened the medicine cabinet. The pill bottle was bright enough to burn my eyes. I unscrewed the top and poured a couple into my hand before replacing things how I'd found them. I swallowed the pills with a scoop of water and headed downstairs.

Bella was in the kitchen already when I returned. I held up my hands and had to pronounce them washed before she allowed me to stir the sauce. I chuckled at her hyper-vigilant cooking and accepted the simple task she'd given me. I wasn't so great in the kitchen, but I was determined to good at stirring.

We talked about the goods, the bads and the uglies of food. Bella was appalled by my diet and insisted that there were no health benefits to anything I ate. I countered with peanut butter, which she insisted was a condiment and not food. I retorted that I was, at least, thin. She told me that starving children in the third world were thin, too. I had no comeback. She had won.

I stirred the sauce and chatted with Bella until everything seemed like background noise and colors looked normal again. I smiled, enjoying the feeling as I noticed it. I could live in this tranquility forever; life was so much simpler with Bella, and I wanted her around all the time. Otherwise, life wouldn't be worth it.

She nudged me aside began to assemble lasagna layers in a deep casserole pan. I watched stupidly, absorbed by the slow motions of her hands. She was coordinated. _How did no one see that?_

We returned to our place at the couch just before the Marines won the game. I leaned my head lazily against her shoulder while we talked to her dad about southern baseball fans and cacti. I ignored how scary he was and laughed with Bella at his jokes. I was glad to see where she got her sense of humor; it meant he wasn't always a threatening law enforcement figure. He could be a dad, too, with his guard down, and that meant there was hope.

Bella gave me a serving of food that I couldn't fathom finishing, and we ate dinner in semi-silence. I forced down half of what was put on my plate in between sips of water and spread the rest around. Neither of them noticed. I'd become a master at concealing the obvious over the years; it was one of the things I did best.

After dinner, I helped Bella with the dishes. We'd done most of them as she cooked, but it was a good routine and I couldn't spend too much time in the same room with Chief Swan. She washed, and I dried because there was no way I was rolling my sleeves up around her – even if she'd probably already seen the scars. If there was a shred of hope, an inkling of her innocence untouched by me, I planned on keeping it that way.

She drove me home because it was still raining and her dad said I would just hitchhike. The drive was silent – only the pattering of rain above and crunch of gravel below as we turned into my driveway. I broke the silence with a heavy sigh as she pulled the truck to a stop. Alice and Edward were back.

"This was a good weekend," I said, my eyes glued on the light in my brother's room. He would have something to say, and, as usual, it wouldn't be positive.

_But it would be true._

Bella nodded. "Thanks for dealing with my dad. I think you made a good impression."

I turned with a hopeful smile. "Good enough that I don't have to do that again?"

She smirked. "One would hope not."

We chuckled. It had been awkward but relatively easy to introduce Bella to my parents because my parents were… well, they weren't actually my parents. They also weren't so strict; we were allowed to have friends over, to be unsupervised and to close our bedroom doors – even if these allowances weren't generally taken advantage of. I think it's because they're so young themselves.

I gave her a kiss on the cheek and slid out of the truck with a quick goodbye. I waved quickly before disappearing through the side door. Once inside, I kicked off my shoes and hauled ass to my room, bypassing the kitchen and sounds of family dinner. My brain felt fuzzy; I didn't have the energy to listen to tales of Rose and Emmett tonight.

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**E/N: Thank you to all you guys for reading! I'm running a bit behind schedule because I was doing college stuff thi****s weekend, but I'll be back the week after next with chapter 46. On another note, if you feel like reading the companion piece... I wouldn't be opposed to that, either. ;) It features Bella's POV.**

_**Did this chapter have you reacting? Tell me all about it!**_


	46. Brotherly Love

Intox 46

My bedroom door clicked closed behind me. I grabbed a garbage bag and began filling it item by item in slow, plodding movements. I threw away all the papers that were marked with failing grades, all the stupid things I'd found lying about and decided to adopt, all the used tissues that I'd never thrown away. There were stacks of untouched homework assignments, and I nearly threw these away, too, but stacked them on my desk to fill out later.

It was an hour before Edward made the appearance I'd been waiting for. By that time, I'd thrown everything on my floor away and decided that all my clothes belonged in the dirty pile. The garbage bags sat next to a mound of laundry that towered over my beanbag chair and, even scarier, my bed. I was sitting at my desk, which was still a battle zone, staring at math equations. They taunted me, and I was getting pissy about it.

I could have recognized his knock anywhere. It was the standard three-rap door knock. He pushed the door open and leaned in the doorway. In the silence, I just knew he was critiquing my room. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of looking up.

"Go away. I'm studying."

"No you're not," he said, and normally he would be right.

"Fuck you, I _am."_

I thought he was gone until his shadow fell across my desk. I blinked at the textbook. He made a neutral sound as if impressed – but only slightly. I sighed.

"_What?" _My eraser tapped a mile a minute against the wooden surface.

"You didn't." I sensed disapproval.

"Touch the piano? No."

"It's only been a week since you were having an episode in the back of my car, and now I hear you're messing around with her?" The question checked his outrage. "Don't joke with me, Jay. I'm serious."

So was I. I'd never heard this tone from him. _Protective? Jealous?_ I clenched my fists and spoke through gritted teeth.

"Listen, I'm glad you're not asexual and all, but back the fuck off or we're going to have issues. What's it to you, anyway?"

"You break everything you touch," he said quietly. He rarely raised his voice.

"I'm not going to touch her," I said, looking up, "so you don't have to worry about that."

His guarded expression translated into disbelief. I'd seen the look a thousand times, mostly after I'd made a preposterous claim. He had a knack for seeing through my bullshit when I could charm anyone else into believing me, but today I was being serious.

It could've been Chief Swan's persuasive argument, but it probably had more to do with my insecurities and Bella herself than anything. It was bad knowing that she was naïve enough to believe in the strength of my character when, in some psychotic way, I was probably manipulating her for companionship. Psychiatrists generally said it was a standard characteristic of people with borderline personalities, which meant it was possible I didn't actually like her. If I didn't like her, then I was just picking up on what she was feeling and, if that was the case, arranging the entire situation around made up emotions. Convincing someone to like you is one thing; persuading them to sleep with you under potentially false pretenses is abominable.

"Look. She's perfect, you know? And then, me… I don't want to ruin it. Her."

He looked past me, his face contemplative. I sighed and turned back to my page, dated from January. Talking to Edward was like explaining to a skeptic how the Bermuda Triangle worked.

"I don't know what I'm doing," I added as an afterthought, to appease him with a sentiment he could understand.

"I know you don't." He leaned over my shoulder and dragged a finger across my page, through all the logarithms I'd solved. "These are wrong."

I growled. He plucked the pencil from my hand and wrote down three formulas on the backside of another page before returning it. I wanted to thank him but knew he would only say something about me not following directions; I didn't want to ruin the truce we'd called since last weekend. He watched me work through an equation before disappearing as silently as he'd entered.

My face was plastered to page 376 of my textbook when my alarm woke me on Monday. I jerked upright at my desk, ripping myself free with a curse as my neck kinked. My lamp was still on. I'd never fallen asleep at my desk before.

_ Maybe I need a doctor, _I mused, dragging my overflowing hamper downstairs to the laundry room.___ This isn't normal._

It was early enough that Edward wasn't back from his daily jog. The morning was still gray, soft. I took my cigarette outside and sat beneath the overhang where I could see the driveway. It didn't take long before the gritty sound of wet gravel and sneakers hit my ears. He came around the bend a minute later, red-faced and muddy, and smelled the smoke.

I cracked my neck with a wince as he stopped to stretch, debating whether I wanted to bring it up now. After a moment's deliberation, I made a tentative decision not to light a holy fire under his ass and lit a second cigarette that I didn't want. The smoke went up my nose. I grimaced and, after a five second delay, sneezed violently. Blood dribbled into my cupped hand.

Edward ran into the garage and reappeared by my side with a stained oil rag that still smelt like cars. He crouched and pressed it against my nose. I held it in place and pinched and couldn't help but chuckle.

"Why doesn't this shit happen to you?" I complained.

He arched an eyebrow in a _you-really-want-to-know-that _way. "I eat three square meals a day and exercise," he said dryly. He plucked the cigarette from my hand and put it out against the wet pavement. "And I don't smoke."

_Of course he didn't smoke. _It was my understanding that Edward hadn't even gotten drunk yet. Mr. Model Citizen over here probably measured out his Robitussin, too. He was so absurdly cautious about his health that I could see him asking a girl for her medical history upfront before dating her. I spat a wad of blood and stood.

"Let me know when you're ready to try one," I said, patting him on the back soundly.

"Smoking kills," he retorted, irritated. I have this effect on him, you see. This is where our verbal ceasefires always end.

"You'll die anyway." My grin was bloody. He was officially pissing me off. I was ready to ruin the truce.

I held the door open for him. We walked up the stairs together before I headed for the kitchen. I heard the shower running upstairs, and it reminded me. I snapped my fingers and turned around. He paused with a foot on the first step.

"While you're upstairs, can you tell Alice to stop being such a meddlesome bitch? It's _really _starting to piss me off."

He opened his mouth but didn't speak. His face registered a degree of self righteousness that, when mixed with anger, led to immediate confrontation. I raised a finger diplomatically. I wasn't getting into this now, but I wanted him to understand. Alice wouldn't betray me without someone prompting her to. I knew her well enough to be sure. It wasn't in her nature – but it was in his. As of now, they were both on my shit list.

The kitchen was empty. I grabbed a slice of bread from the refrigerator, slathered a thick layer of butter on it and topped it with a scoop of cottage cheese. _At least I was making an effort to eat. _I downed it in three bites while walking upstairs to get dressed, my mind still stuck on the gratuitous mound of papers on my desk and how I could avoid the dynamic duo.

As it turns out, avoiding them was easy. When Carlisle knocked on my door to give me my pills, I just asked him to drop me off at Bella's house on his way to work. I'd spent 2 – 3 a.m. calculating when she left for school based on her arrival time and the fact that she always drove the speed limit. By driving with Carlisle, I could catch a ride from her _and _have an early-morning tutoring session. It made perfect sense, really.

He didn't buy my homework excuse but agreed to take me anyway if I was at his car in five minutes. I nodded and moved quickly, shoving the entire mess on my desk into my backpack. I grabbed my leather jacket from the floor and made it downstairs to the garage in a minute flat.

He chuckled when he arrived four minutes later with a thermos of hot tea and saw me waiting. There was an unmistakable look in his eyes, but he waited until we'd pulled onto the main road before asking why I was avoiding Alice.

I sighed. Telling him the truth wasn't an option. It's not like I could announce that she stole my fucking drugs – that would just be asinine. I couldn't complain that she'd been snooping through my stuff, either, because Carlisle knew we went through each other's things all the time.

I frowned. "It's nothing."

"Didn't seem like 'nothing,'" he murmured before changing the subject. I was grateful to talk about sports for the remainder of the drive.

I stepped lightly on the porch, but her dad still opened the door before I could knock. He wore a pressed uniform but still held a mug of half-finished coffee. The corners of his mouth turned down slightly when he greeted me.

"Good morning, sir!" I smiled tentatively through the screen door. "I'm here to drive Bella to school."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, not the driving part," I corrected hastily - I still had two months' suspension - "but more the opening doors and carrying her books."

He chuckled and opened the door. I stepped inside before he had the chance to shut me out and followed him to the kitchen. Savory aromas filled the air. I saw Bella at the stovetop frying eggs and tiptoed to the empty seat at the table. Chief Swan offered me a glass of orange juice. I shook my head but accepted when he pointed me toward the coffee pot. _Did I look that bad?_

Bella was humming a song I'd heard before. The lyrics had something to do with rattling locks, but I'd always found the music itself compelling. I hummed along with her, filling in the parts she couldn't reach. We made beautiful music together.

She almost dropped the plate when she saw me. I seated myself, chuckling and refused her offers of food, choosing instead to cling to my warm coffee while her dad ate eggs and she toasted an onion bagel for herself. She poured a glass of orange juice and hopped back up to fetch the butter.

Her dad looked at me. "Are you going to be a fixture here in the mornings, then?"

I couldn't read his face. I shrugged and watched Bella dance. Her eyes were lidded as she swayed to the internal melody. The happiness stirring inside me felt foreign. My lips curled upward. I couldn't help but be puzzled at how she made me smile.

"Maybe so, if my good luck holds out."

I sat in on their family breakfast and listened to them discuss literature and car crashes as if it was just another day at the Swan house. For seeming so innocent, she knew a lot about crime. They spoke in police codes and chatted about what Bella insisted was a classic domestic abuse case. He teased her for reading Romeo and Juliet _again, _but she rolled her eyes and told me he loved the modern Leonardo DiCaprio movie as much as anyone. She called him Charlie, but it sounded more endearing than anytime I'd ever heard her call him dad.

He gave her a peck on the cheek as we left for school. I got the impression that he usually left first but had stayed behind on my account. I could have apologized. Instead, I held the umbrella over his daughter's head and opened the car door for her. Her hand skimmed beneath my jacket and over my hip as she brushed past me, catching me by surprise. I stiffened and walked around the cab.

"Are you trying to get me shot?" I asked, my eyes wide on the front door where her dad had a steady gaze fixed on me. I buckled my seatbelt and pulled it taut.

She gave me a look as she started the engine. "So you get to pull that shit with me and I can't have any fun back?"

I blinked at her innocently and made a mental note to refrain from pulling "that shit" anymore. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

She scowled. I didn't see anything wrong with my reaction; I did a mental check of possible responses and thought that, yeah, the one I'd chosen made the most sense. She didn't seem to think so. Her silent anger was unnerving and resilient. We rode in silence until I apologized. I had a feeling I'd be doing a lot more of it in the future.

Most people were inside because of the rain, so our arrival didn't cause a stir. She put the hood of her rain slicker up and I carried her backpack to her locker. She organized her homework. I organized mine. We loitered around until the hallways crowded and kids began to stare. Then I left. It was a quiet morning, almost as if the weekend had never existed.

_Give me noise. _

_ Give me thunder. _

_ Give me proof it was real._

The morning had its own heartbeat. I avoided Alice in the hallways and spent the first ten minutes of each class paying attention, which I considered an accomplishment. Usually I would spend all that time doodling or staring at the lines on my notebooks, but today I was sober and preoccupied with math equations.

My brain had latched onto my math homework at some point the day before while I was organizing my papers. It was the stupidest thing I could have become fixated on. I hated math; it made my eyes go cross and my brain spin, and most people used calculators anyway. I wasn't good at it, so it was the first subject that had gone by the wayside when my apathy set in. The only reason I was doing this was to get it off my desk and to prevent Bella from noticing what an epic burnout I was … and, perhaps, to pass the class with a solid D.

I walked into math class and sat in my assigned seat near the back. The chair filled around me quickly. I kept my head down and graphed equations for homework that everyone had turned in while I was moping in bed the previous week. When Mrs. King entered, I hardly glanced up.

Mrs. King is a woman with a pinched face whose age is only revealed by the fine wrinkles around her eyes. She's blond and wears clothes that ride tight against her matronly curves, and only thing keeping her from official cougar status is the law. She is charming and flirtatious but, underneath the charade, is a bitch of a teacher out for blood. _My _blood. Her eyes are piercing, authoritative and intense when she hits teacher mode, and normally I sense her presence with a sixth sense called "self-preservation instinct."

I spent the entire class debating whether I should grow a pair of balls or slink away without handing in my overdue assignments. She would stare me down, and I hated to be intimidated. On the other hand, it would make me late for lunch and the idea of food sounded repulsive anyway – or maybe I was rationalizing avoidant behavior. I hadn't decided by the time class ended, so I sat still while everyone trickled out for their fifth period class.

Walking the length of the room to her desk was difficult, but I was relieved to be able to drop the stack of papers on her desk. It landed like an old manuscript, curled around the edges, stained and dog-eared in places. She shuffled through a couple pages before glancing up at me over the rims of her tortoise-shell glasses. I took an instinctive step back.

"What's your next class?" she asked.

I shifted my weight. I needed a cigarette. "Lunch."

"Hungry?"

My tongue felt thick; I felt as if I'd never had a drink of water in my life, but I shook my head, hoping she was giving me a positive sign.

"Good." She picked up her red pen. "Sit."

I sat fast enough to make my head swim.

She moved through my papers, wielding a pen over my future. I counted every slash she put through the pages. As time ticked away she drank from her thermos and grimaced. _Vodka? No, idiot, cold coffee. _Too bad; if it was water, I might've asked for some. After going through half the work she held up the page that Edward had written on and glared at me.

"Did your brother do these for you?" she asked. She'd spent too many years teaching to be bothered by insincerity, and it wasn't hard to pick out _me as the one with that potential._

My eyebrows shot up. _Fuck. _I should have remembered that Edward was the smart one with the GPA and the delinquent brother who would cheat off his papers. In a rational way it made sense that she'd suspect it, too. If I could manipulate him into liking me enough to cheat, I would have.

I shook my head. "No ma'am."

She didn't believe me until I begged her to call him out of lunch. I buried my face in my hands, and my despair must have been palpable because she made a phone call. Five minutes later, I heard him enter and looked up. He looked surprised – and a little angry – to see me. For a second I thought it entirely possible that he would lie; I dismissed the thought on grounds that Edward _never lies._

They talked in quiet voices, Edward shaking his head and gesturing and Mrs. King jabbing at the paper. I tried to sit still but my foot was tapping. Edward turned to me with a sharp glance, and I went rigid, my fists clenched to rein in the nerves. I couldn't tell if it was normal to feel so anxious. It was like being in front of the sirens when the alarms started going off, and I wanted relief, sanctuary, quiet, tranquil.

I wanted Bella_. _She was fiery and quite possibly the antithesis of "tranquil" for an onlooker, but our interactions had a rhythm unexplainable to the outsider. It was a familiar pattern that I found was as comforting as it was ferocious, as persnickety as it was relaxed and as intoxicating as it was sobering. She was the give that I took, the aggressor when I was standoffish and, I was sure, softer than I was rough.

Finally my teacher looked at me again. "Tomorrow, you come to class and you take the test you missed last week. If you pass the test, I see how many of these papers I can accept."

I sat up straight and nodded eagerly, ready to accept whatever plea bargain she had for me. If it made up for my lackluster performance, I would accept it. I grabbed my books and hurried after Edward, who was fast disappearing out the door.

I caught him by the shoulder and turned him around. "Ed, thank you."

He slapped my hand away and kept walking.

"I don't know why I bother," he said. I took a step back, upset but not surprised, and persisted in following him.

"Because you're a good person," I offered. It was true; I hated him, but he was the best person I knew. This was the only compliment I knew how to give him.

He stopped and looked at me, and the sadness in his eyes overflowed into mine. He shook his head and said,

"You take advantage of good, Jay, and you don't deserve it anymore. Don't talk to me until you apologize to Alice."

The bell rang. Neither of us spoke, but it was not for my want of trying; my jaw worked but came up with no words. He turned and melted into the crowd, leaving me to reflect on how true his words were. _Edward never lied._

I wanted peace. I wanted calm. I wanted white powder and sharp syringes. I wanted concrete walkways, the flicker of flame to metal and the sting of ecstasy. I clenched my fists and tried to disengage the reckless thoughts before they drove me insane.

I saw her face in the crowd. Our eyes locked and she beckoned me over. _Bella. _I headed her way. She looked relieved. Her smile was infectious. I approached and towered over her, painfully aware that our proximity was drawing attention.

"Are you okay?" she said, knowing that my being absent was never a good thing. The air around us was an area of high pressure. You could feel it in the atmosphere.

"I'm perfect now," I responded, sure that nothing my brother said mattered when we were together. I needed a sign that read "Bella or Bust."

Jessica glanced at us with predatory eyes as she walked into the classroom. I hoped her gaze had landed on Bella's confused, searching eyes and skipped over the polarized air crackling between us or the way our hands skimmed without touching. I felt it and knew by Bella's breath that she did, too, but Jessica's intrusion had broke the spell. I turned away first, before we could test the energy, and took my seat.

Some things, I reasoned, were too good to be touched.

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**E/N: Some of you may be disappoint that Bella's back to unicorn-status. Some of you may be going "ah ha!" Some of you may be thinking how disastrous Edward-Jasper bonding turns out... I'm thinking about a million things, especially the new readers who zipped through all 45 chapters of this story and gave me encouraging reviews! Thank you, guys!**


	47. Uncomfortable Connections

**Thank you to my lovely reviewers for your fantastic input last week! A lot of you had great insight and unique viewpoints, and I feel bad that I have to be so vague in response. And, to all my new followers, I'm excited that you think enough of my story to keep reading. =)**

* * *

Intox 47

I was confused and partially relieved to see Carlisle's sedan waiting for me in the parking lot when classes let out for the day. It meant that I wouldn't have to sit in my own company while Edward and Alice chatted up front and I was relegated to backseat solitude. It also meant that I had to leave Bella sitting in our spot on the stair wall where she kept me company "discussing biology" while I smoked.

_Oh, parting is such sweet sorrow. _

I gave her a quick goodbye, promised to open all the doors for her tomorrow and nearly turned to kiss her before remembering that we were being watched. I paused, watching her cheeks blush at the attention, before I turned and left with a breath of resignation. She wasn't ready for that amount of drama. The sheer amount of insinuations and rumors would shock her out of the water.

Carlisle and I chatted about my day and how appallingly average it had been – _except that Bella was there so it wasn't _– on the way to the meeting. I asked him for water because I felt thirsty and lightheaded, but he had none. He checked my forehead for a fever as we turned into the parking lot and pronounced me healthy. He walked me through the reception room and dropped me off in front of Andalano's office, leaving me with a reminder to be upfront about my behavior. I couldn't look him in the eyes. Carlisle knew by experience that I was generally underhanded and self-serving, ready to lie to keep myself out of trouble - even if I paid a therapist to hear me out when I wanted to talk.

I entered the office and took my seat. The cushion felt wrong. It felt like a fat man had sat in my seat, blathering about his sexual compulsivity while his wife was getting home from the daycare where she stopped every weekday after work to pick up their four year old daughter. I hated that man. He was undoubtedly balding, with a managerial position that entitled him to blame his high blood pressure on stress rather than the pitiful double life he led. He didn't know that his wife tolerated his bullshit even though, as a single mother, she could still do better than him. He was having a midlife crisis, and he didn't know how easy he had it. _Fuck his midlife crisis and his whiny drivel._ _Fuck him!_

"Any opening statements?" Andalano asked.

_Oh he had no idea._

"Who sat in this chair today?" I demanded. My head hurt. I knew I was changing the subject before it could be brought up, but the anger was real. I have an amazing gift to harness emotions and use them against the person closest to my line of fire. I let him have it. I spat out my worst insults about his patients in a hateful torrent that felt absolutely cathartic.

"You got all that from a chair?" he said, chuckling, once I was done.

I breathed heavily, surprised that I'd said any of that aloud.

"To answer your question, no one sat in the chair today. You're the only client I see on Mondays. I assume the janitor sat in it over the weekend."

I felt deflated, but he wasn't done.

"And, speaking of the weekend, why don't you tell me what happened that you're so anxious to avoid."

It hadn't taken him long to read my mind. He was getting better at this by the day. He'd probably been taking lessons from Edward. _Jerk._

"I'm dating Bella Swan."

I watched nervously as he contemplated my words. If there was one place I was supposed to be myself, it was this office. The outside wasn't supposed to matter; the noise and distractions were supposed to fade away. I could be insecure, and he wouldn't play me for it. I could blaspheme, and he wouldn't pray for my soul. I could be paranoid, and he wouldn't manipulate me. I could tell him what was on my mind, and he wouldn't judge me. I could tell him the truth, and he wouldn't run.

"And you thought that was a good idea?" he asked after his long pause.

_Judgmental bastard._ His bookends suddenly looked intriguing. I shrugged and looked away.

"Need I remind you that a week ago you were sitting in that chair, an emotional wreck, and you were talking – actually _talking_ – to me?"

"That was just the meds you had me on," I said with a dismissive sniff. I didn't like my words being used against me.

"It was some of the scariest shit I've ever heard coming from anyone – let alone a nineteen year old kid with a case file thicker than the Bible, but I listened, Jasper," he said, "and I know you're already pissed that I'm "betraying" you, but if you think jumping into bed with her is the way to go, then we need to take a deep breath and sort through your rationalizations."

I bristled. "I'm not going to sleep with her."

"How well do you know her, and I mean _really_ know her, Jasper?" His fingers were formed a flesh steeple in front of his face.

"_Well_." I was just being petulant at this point. It's amazing how well you can get to know somebody after so much time trying to ignore them.

"Let's phrase it another way," he said. Of everything he could have said, I didn't expect him to say this. "Would you care to explain your last relationship to me? How did Maria treat you?"

"Well, she..." I balked, my mind momentarily shutting down. I sat there, aware that my face was becoming more perturbed with every second I delved into my memory. Just her name was like touching an electric fence. I couldn't decide whether she had treated me bad and I'd deserved the punishment or if it was normal behavior. The indecision scared me. _She_ scared me.

"She burnt me," I said, because that was a neutral statement I could think about without getting dizzy.

"And it hurt?"

I couldn't breathe. I felt sick, my mind trapped in memories I didn't want to think about. I touched my fingers lightly to my shoulder and trembled. The answer was there, scarred into my flesh. I nodded.

"You didn't stop her?"

_How could I? She would've left!_ I was paranoid she would leave, and I hated being alone. In my book, the odds of surviving the world alone are worse than surviving a dysfunctional relationship. I think he knew that; we both knew it. I shook my head stiffly.

He sighed and spoke slowly. "Jasper, you need time to figure out your identity, and you can't do that if you keep giving it away. You need to stay away from stressors."

"Bella isn't a stressor," I protested. She was sweet, beautiful, smart and she had a temper, but she wasn't a stressor. She was everything that could ever be the opposite of that ... all at once.

"Jasper, you're an easy target for manipulation and you don't even know it." His voice was weary.

My nostrils flared. "She's not Maria!"

He raised his hands in surrender. "I never said she was. I only said to be careful."

I didn't know what to make of that, so for a while I said nothing. When I did speak again, we argued about the validity of his claims, which I proclaimed pretentious despite a lingering worry that he was right, that I shouldn't put such blind faith in her. As my time ran out, he gave me a slip of paper with the numbers one through five evenly bulleted against the white background. He called it homework. I called it bullshit.

"By next week, I need you to write down and explain five things that make you unique… likes, dislikes, characteristics, etc. On Wednesday, I expect two answers. We can discuss it a bit then and go over what you've got already."

The blank sheet could be easily dealt with. "What if I throw this away in the trash basket outside?"

He shrugged. "I'll give you another one Wednesday."

I folded the paper into sixths and slid it into my back pocket.

Carlisle met me in the lobby and patted me on the shoulder. I wobbled, prompting him to keep an arm around me while we walked to the car. Even though I knew it was just a defensive reaction to the harrowing hour I'd just spent inside, it was nice to have Carlisle there. I didn't tell him so.

"How'd it go?" he asked as I climbed in the passenger's seat.

"He gave me homework," I said.

There was a pause in conversation as I buckled my safety belt, straightened the straps and pulled it tight across my chest. He started the car. The engine rumbled and quieted. I closed my eyes and took slow, deep breaths.

"You okay?"

"She is _not_ Maria," I snapped, though why at him I didn't know. His mouth formed a small 'o' as he realized how my meeting had gone, and he turned away. I closed my eyes again and thought about every pothole we would hit on the way home and the eight pound textbook I needed to open as soon as we arrived.

Thankfully, he didn't try to speak again during the drive. He did shanghai me into sitting in his office while he looked over medical charts when we got home, however. I protested, but he cleared space for me and made me study there until dinner while he listened to Pinback on the stereo. I couldn't focus with the sound of his pen scratching and the drumbeat in the background and the creaking of my chair as I stretched, but I tried.

We had family dinner, but my eyes were vacant and my mind absent. I drank two glasses of water greedily but didn't lift my fork; I was having a hard enough time keeping the water down. My head was light, the colors dim, time slow, the edges black. The chatter around me was background noise to my racing heartbeat. I couldn't get my mind off the train that hurtled me down the tracks leading to Maria. I put my head in my hands and focused on breathing, hating Andalano for mentioning her; she brought out such a visceral reaction in me.

"Jasper?" I looked up into Alice's troubled eyes, but it was Esme, to my right, who had spoken. She touched a hand gently to mine. "Hon, are you okay?"

There it was. Jasper was making a scene again. I looked over – surprised at the split-second delay in my vision. They were staring at me.

"I need air," I said abruptly, pushing my chair from the table despite Esme asking me what was wrong and Carlisle warning me to stay put in his "doctor voice" as he jumped from his chair. I never listen to doctors' advice.

There are times you should listen, and this was one of them. Carlisle caught me in the next room as my knees buckled and everything went dark. Forty seconds later I was staring at the ceiling in the living room, too dizzy to get up from the couch. My head spun with every breath I took.

His face hovered over mine, smiling when I showed recognition. He disappeared out of my vision, and I heard a _thunk_ on the coffee table. I closed my eyes. Esme's voice was a lullaby but their murmurs were unintelligible. I felt motion sick.

Carlisle squatted on his hams beside the couch and strapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm. I rolled my head and watched the cuff expand. He told me to be still. There was a connection between this and Edward's "three meals a day" campaign; I sensed it when Carlisle frowned and looked up at me.

"Damnit, Jasper, I thought you were eating."

He held up a blood glucose monitor so I could see the damning evidence. I hadn't even felt it prick me. My vital signs were all sorts of fucked up. I was sure I had been eating all week. I'd been good. _What the fuck?_

"I am!"

He sighed. "The next time you feel dizzy, dehydrated or anxious, consider that it _might_ be because you haven't eaten in ... when did you eat last?"

"This morning," I said defensively. He gave me a look and I felt obliged to tender that response with a sheepish, "I forgot." I'd never thought of the connection. _Weren't doctors supposed to tell you these things?_

"Jesus, do we have to tape you to the table until you've cleared your plate?"

I hoped he wasn't serious. That would just be humiliating.

He got up and fetched me a glass of grape juice from the kitchen. He handed me a packet of salt and told me to lie down until my blood pressure was up. I refused, of course, because I was trying to distract myself from introspection with a mental challenge. He rolled his eyes, pushed me back and brought me my books.

"Studying, huh?"

"I have a test." I chewed on the pencil nib and didn't elaborate. Edward would tell the story as soon as he mentioned it at the dinner table. Carlisle smiled but didn't try to reassure me, which would have just added to the stress I felt.

"I'll be in the next room if you want anything," he said, shifting toward the doorway with his hands in his pockets.

I nodded without looking up, and he returned to dinner; their murmuring voices filled in the silence. I sat up and lit the lamp on the end table to my left, sending soft light beams across the couch and beige carpeting. Someone laughed in the other room. I frowned and opened my books, but my brain felt foggy.

I sighed and choked down a sip of the juice. After staring at the thin layer of sugar at the bottom of the glass in disbelief, I placed it on the coffee table next to Carlisle's first-aid kit - it's the only one in the Pacific Northwest that comes equipped with everything from bandages to epi-pens - and ate the salt instead. I'd never been big on sweets anyway.

I woke curled up on the couch with my book tucked in the empty space between my legs and chest. The sky beyond the drapes was dark, but the television washed the room in stale, flickering light. It wasn't until the opening tune to the nightly news alarmed me that I stretched with a groan and headed upstairs. I'd wasted too much time already.

I didn't sleep that night. When my alarm woke me from the mathematical trance I'd spent the last seven hours in, I tripped over my feet in a rush to shut it up. My ears rang in the silence that deafened my room. I turned and stared vacantly out the window, wishing it was possible to pluck out my eyeballs and soak them in water. They felt like they were about to bleed.

After changing into fresh clothes, I padded downstairs and found Esme and Carlisle in the kitchen. They hummed together, his face nestled in her auburn hair as she swayed in his arms, and the birds outside sang for them. My eyes fell to the way his hand rested on the curve of her hip. I started to back out, but Esme saw me.

"Feeling better?"

I nodded, hesitated and looked away as I moved around them to the refrigerator. The food seemed too random to combine into anything edible. I poured myself coffee instead and sat down at the table.

Esme set a bowl of cereal on the table and pushed it in front of me. I glanced up, sure she was studying the shadows under my eyes, but she was smiling. I forced down the cereal and drank the juice Carlisle put in front of me. We didn't speak, and I was glad they weren't lecturing me after last night. I couldn't take the attention.

I took my empty bowl to the sink and refilled my coffee. I held out my hand and Carlisle handed me my pills while he finished buttering his toast. The routine was already familiar.

I was sugaring my coffee when I heard the footsteps skipping down the stairs. I stiffened. Carlisle looked at me as Alice breezed into the room and slowed at the sight of me. I grunted into my coffee and spun for the door. She huffed as I brushed past her.

"I'll wait by the car," I called over my shoulder.

Warning bells in my head told me to avoid Alice at all costs. I knew she wouldn't apologize, and it made me livid that she would lash out at me for something she'd done. She had to have known it would be the end of us right when Edward told her to do it, but she did it anyway_. _She wasn't stupid enough to think I wouldn't care. No, Alice wasn't stupid.

She was a bitch.

* * *

**The title of the chapter, "Uncomfortable Connections," has a twofold meaning. I'm interested in seeing your opinion of what that means! =)**


	48. Spitfire

**Thank you for all the reviews last week! I got great answers to my prompt ranging from the effect of Maria on Jasper and Bella's relationship to the crumbling Jasper-Alice bond. I can't believe I've split the audience on whether to love or hate Alice... there were all sorts of comments! =D**

Intox 48

Carlisle stopped at the convenience store on the way and dropped a handful of granola bars in my lap when he returned to the car. I tucked them into my backpack before getting out of the car at Bella's house. He waited until her dad opened the door before driving away, but it wasn't like I could run from the cops anyway. I shook my head and entered.

Chief Swan commented on my rough appearance almost as soon as we sat. I rubbed a hand over my jaw and was surprised. It hadn't occurred to me to shave. Waking and pulling myself out of bed was hard enough these days; shaving seemed irrelevant. This morning, I couldn't even remember whether I'd brushed my teeth. I felt worn and tired, like a man who discovers he's arthritic at age twenty nine.

"You look like the zombie apocalypse," he said.

I feigned a laugh and looked at the placemat. Bella ventured over from the skillet and studied my face, her expression thoughtful. She saw right through me. She chided her dad and explained that I was more vampire than zombie: I didn't sleep at night.

"You don't sleep?"

I shook my head.

"Why not?"

_ Besides nightmares and stress?_ "I was studying," I said. Talking to the chief was like sitting inside an interrogation room. I wished Bella would come and sit down already. His questions were ruthless.

"Don't you know that sleep aids memory?"

_"Dad!"_ I praised God that she interrupted him, but he shrugged at her as if these were normal questions to be asking over breakfast and turned back to me.

"You eat a balanced breakfast?"

I nodded. "Cereal."

He shot Bella a triumphant look and said that I needed "real food" before I passed out. She rolled her eyes and put his plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. I debated the merits of arguing but knew by the stubborn look in their eyes that it would do me no good. I over-salted the eggs and ate. At least I knew where she got her tenacity from.

The day sped on fast forward from there. The skies were overcast but bright when we got to school, so I made her stop the truck around the corner so I could get out and walk. She look at me in frustrated disbelief.

"Is it really that big a deal that people see us together?"

"Trust me, you don't want the attention," I said climbing out.

"Oh my God, you're really playing that card," she groaned.

"It's not a card, Bella. I'm being serious."

Her _pshaw_ was not lost on me. I leaned across the seat and placed a kiss gently on her lips. Her breath quivered. I brushed a tendril of hair out of her eyes and pulled away. My body ached to be closer, but if I didn't leave now I wouldn't study at all.

* * *

I had my nose to the grindstone until math class when Mrs. King sent me into the hall to take the test. I felt sure she would pat me down, but she just handed me a pencil, deleted the history on my calculator and sent me out to fend for myself. When the lunch bell rang and she saw that I'd spent all my time laboring over the first twenty questions, she sat me down in front of her desk to finish and read Napoleon's biography. I could've told her all about Napoleon in a thirty minute ramble, but I turned back to the test before I got distracted by French intrigue and the Russian invasion.

I had no idea whether I passed, but, by the time the bell rang, my brain was too fried to care. Autopilot directed me to my locker, where I switched notebooks and grabbed a granola bar. The crowd thinned as I sat on the floor against my locker and ate. I heaved myself to my feet and splashed cold water on my face before heading to class.

Bella and I sat together on the front stairs after school, plotting how I could get home if I went to her house. Smoke rose in ribbons from the cigarette dangling between my lips. Carlisle was working late. I dug out my phone and called Esme.

She answered after three rings. "Hey, honey, what's wrong?"

The sound of children in the background startled me before I remembered she was at DSS building for the afternoon. Bella nudged me. I remembered my voice, exhaled and asked for a ride.

"She needs an address," I said, holding out the phone to Bella.

"Hey, Mrs. Cullen," she said. They chatted for a few minutes more than necessary. Bella laughed and wagged her eyebrows at me. "No, he's not blowing smoke in my face… no, quite the gentleman, actually."

She ended the call and handed the phone back. I smiled.

"What?"

"You're something else."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

I tapped out the cigarette butt, stood and held out a hand to help her up. "It _was_ a compliment."

We talked lazily about our day on the drive to her house and whether it was worth losing one's soul to watch the _Jerry Springer Show_. We curled up on the couch to test the theory, but the next thing I recall is waking with my face against rough fabric in a dark room. Esme and Chief Swan were talking in the other room. An afghan slipped off me as I sat up in blind panic, and my disorientation disappeared. _Bella's house. _ I folded the blanket reverently and stumbled over the shoes in the foyer on my way to the kitchen.

The light difference was blinding. I squinted at the trio gathered in the kitchen and then the wall clock. It was later than I'd anticipated. I gave Esme a hug and padded over to lean against the counter where Bella was perched.

"You could've woke me up," I groaned, threading my fingers through hers.

"I tried," she snickered, "but you sleep like the dead."

Esme gave me a sympathetic smile as I yawned. "I was just about to come get you. Ready to go?"

_Never._

It took us a minute to say our goodbyes and head to the car mostly because of me. Esme waited until I'd buckled my seatbelt to start the car, something Edward never bothered to do. In a bizarre world where everyone seemed to float through each other, Esme was a solid human interaction with a heart of gold.

"You'll never guess who called today," she said.

"Emmett." _Who was she kidding?_ She was too easy to read. I never knew whether it was the hulking stature, his seemingly perpetual smile or his dimples, but something about him screamed "puppy" to Esme. Whenever she got excited over a phone call, chances are it was Emmett calling to check in from Seattle. He was her unofficial favorite.

I closed my eyes, half listening to her retelling of his newest promotion, and mhmm'd at appropriate spots, even though she must have known I wasn't paying attention. It wasn't until she mentioned them visiting that my eyes flashed open.

"When?"

"Memorial Day weekend. He can't wait to see you."

She grinned at me, and normally I wouldn't mind seeing Em. He was a smart straight talker, adventurous and had a questionable sense of humor. We had a tendency to play fight, though one of us almost always left with a black eye, because his size blocked my relentless attack and evened the playing field. We used to jam together when he was into drums. He was like a big brother to me, but he always brought Rose, and just thinking about my little sister made my hands shake.

"That's a little short notice, don't you think?"

"It's four weeks away," she said with a little laugh as we pulled into the driveway.

I grunted. "I'm going to bed."

"It's dinner time."

"I'm not hungry."

"_Jasper_."

"_Esme_," I mimicked.

Her sharp glance was a warning.

"I already ate!"

She parked and looked at me, her eyebrow arched. "You know Alice went up to Port Angeles to check the gallery, right?"

I hadn't, but it made sense in retrospect. I looked around the garage but didn't see the Volvo. I sighed in relief. I was starving.

* * *

The next morning, I was up and shaved in time to catch my ride. We drove slowly. Overnight, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. The storm whipped up leaves and made it nearly impossible to see the road. When we got to Bella's house, I sprinted, but the rain still plastered my clothes to my body.

Chief Swan gave me a once over and made me stand, dripping, on the mud mat while he fetched a towel. I dried myself off in the foyer.

"Bella, delivery at the door," he shouted up the stairs.

Her voice was muffled by closed doors, but I detected panic. "_Already?_"

A minute later she thumped down the stairs and skidded to a stop in front of me. Her hair still had a fresh-from-bed look and she'd cinched the drawstrings of my flannel pants so they wouldn't fall _too_ low. I smiled at her tailoring skills. She blushed.

"I think it's you running behind, Bella, not the other way around." I kissed her forehead and remarked that it felt warm.

She nodded, her face morose. "I barely slept last night."

We'd traded places. I'd slept well and felt fantastic. I made a joke about the sandman mixing up addresses.

She finished getting ready while I sat at the bottom of the stairs. It only took her ten minutes, but it felt like an hour. When she returned, she'd changed, brushed her hair and put on a thin layer of makeup. I was suspicious.

"You never wear makeup." I should know. I spent a lot of time pretending not to look at her face.

"My face isn't usually a malicious shade of gray," she retorted as we entered the kitchen. She shoved me out of the way when I tried to help and sent me to my corner with less gusto than usual. I looked across the table to her dad.

"She's sick."

"No I'm not!" she called from the refrigerator.

"She's in denial," I continued fluidly, ignoring her death stare.

He chuckled and asked me how I'd done on my test. Since I'd fallen asleep yesterday, he hadn't had the chance to ask. He made up for it by interrogating me relentlessly, but there wasn't much I could tell him. By the time Bella came to the table my foot was doing the jitterbug.

They fed me again, as if I was a charity case. Not that the food wasn't good. Bella was a great cook, but I could do fine by myself. I told them so, but Bella told me that peanut butter sandwiches didn't constitute a meal like I'd never been inside a kitchen before.

She let me dry the dishes before we left, at least, so I wouldn't feel like so much of a mooch. I put them away, too, using my skills of deduction. She didn't have to point out a single cabinet for me. _I was getting good at this._

We'd hardly sprinted to the truck and slammed the doors against the monsoon when Bella cursed. I looked at the twenty feet from the driveway to the porch in dismay, sure she'd left something behind. I didn't want to run back through the downpour.

"I just remembered I have to go shopping for prom dresses with the girls tonight," she pouted.

What she felt was too familiar for me to explain. I pulled her into an awkward hug over the bulky center consol. She exhaled deeply as I rubbed her back, and I planted a kiss at the crook of her neck before pulling away.

"I'm sorry, but my mind's stuck on the prom dresses," I said, cracking a smile. I tried to picture Bella all dolled up in a gaudy pink dress. It just didn't jive with her personality.

We parked at the back of the school lot. Bella banged her head against the steering wheel. I jumped and took a close look to check for bruises. Her eyes were unfocused. _A concussion? _

"I just want to curl up on the couch and watch crime drama reruns," she moaned, swatting my hands away. "I wish I could stay home… with you. And maybe this time I'd fall asleep," she suggested.

"Ahhh… Carlisle's picking me up for a doctor's appointment." I scratched my head and looked away.

"Like, a "going to the doctor" appointment or a "talking to the doctor" appointment?"

I looked up sharply. She blushed but didn't turn away. I rubbed my forearms. My mouth felt dry.

"So, I take it it's the second one," she concluded after my deadly silence.

"Is it that obvious?"

She scrunched her nose. "Just some weird things you've said… and some weird things I've overheard."

She scooted closer and ran a finger across the scar on my neck. I couldn't breathe. Her smile was nervous but hopeful, her eyes soft but not pitying. I put a hand over hers and traced the path the seatbelt had carved up the side of my neck during the crash. The scar was almost nine years old. It hadn't always been so smooth.

"And because I can tell this isn't a shaving nick," she added with a shrug. "I know you've been through a lot of stuff, but being upset about it doesn't make you crazy. I'd probably think you were crazier for _not _talking to someone."

I gulped. She made me wonder whether any of my preconceptions had been made in good judgment. She made me feel sane when few others dared to try. Just the touch of her fingertips grounded me in the moment, and I never wanted to relinquish that connection. But she was touching me, and our eyes were too heated. If I didn't stop myself now I'd regret it.

We kissed, our bodies joining over the consol, twisting to accommodate the cramped quarters. My hands cupped her face; my fingers ran through her hair as she twined her arms around my neck. Her lips were soft, yielding, intense.

A fire kindled in my body like a slow burn. The truck rocked gently when I pulled her into my lap. She straddled me, her hand smudging the steamy window as she balanced, but I didn't give a shit. I needed her closer. I needed my hands on her hips and the silky skin of her waist.

She pushed me against the seat and leaned away, her breath ragged. Her face was flushed. Her breath came in short, sweet little puffs of air from parted lips. Her hair looked like it had just gone back to bed.

"I can't kiss you," she panted. "I have a cold."

_A little too late._

"I have a good immune system," I promised.

"We should go inside." As proof of her illness, she sniffled.

She had a point, and she'd just reminded me that I wasn't supposed to touch her. I groaned internally. I agreed with her and went further to claim that I'd been trying to get inside this whole time. _After all, who was on top of whom here?_

* * *

Andalano and I spent most of our hour that afternoon fighting. Well, to be honest, it was more me shouting. His concerns that I wasn't taking my progress seriously were reasonable, but they still made me livid. _So what if I'd ignored my homework?_ It was stupid anyway. I didn't need to make a list of things that made me an individual. I didn't need proof that I wasn't a sponge soaking up peoples' suggestions and interests. I didn't need to agonize over the obvious.

Maybe if he hadn't been so adamant about it I would have done the work. He smiled when I told him so and said I shouldn't try so hard to be contrary. If anything, the statement made me angrier. I accused him of being an Edward. I shouted at the rooftops and hoped the walls were soundproof.

Just because you don't like something doesn't give you the right to condemn it. Some things are obnoxious, but you deal with them because of consequences. I endured dirty looks and rumors on a daily basis, but I wasn't out for blood because that would be illegal. Concrete buildings were tasteless, but I didn't graffiti them because my art skills would make them uglier. Kids who panhandled outside grocery stores for the charity events made me irate, but I didn't react because security guards, parents and the police weren't as forgiving to harassers as they were to moochers. _Who was he to belittle me as a person for the way I thought?_

Just before our time ran out, he took out another numbered sheet of paper and filled in the first blank before handing it to me. His handwriting was a mix of chicken scratch and jagged cursive. I read it aloud.

"I tolerate because every action has a reaction, not because it is wrong or right." I looked up at him. The words described me. As a kid, I got called a compulsive liar a lot, but I never understood how lying was bad if it got good results. I wasn't morally bankrupt. The ambiguity just didn't make sense to me.

"Oh."

"Elaborate on that answer for Friday, will you?" he said. "And for God's sake, start filling in the rest."

* * *

How I managed to avoid Alice until Wednesday night was a mystery. Part of me thought I could pull it off indefinitely, but she cornered me as I came out of the shower and dashed the wishful thought. She stood arms akimbo in the doorway when I opened it, eyes like laser beams, foot tapping. The movement reminded me of a cat lashing its tail back and forth. _And I'd thought ignoring each other would be enough. _Spitfire was pissed.

My hair dripped everywhere; I felt like a shaggy dog, and I wasn't in the mood. She blocked me when I tried to push past her. I retreated a step, unable to bring myself into physical contact with her.

Alice and I never fought. I mean that in the way you say tomatoes are vegetables; we quarreled over what to name our dog, we argued on which movie to watch and gave each other the silent treatment like a grumpy old couple. But we never fought, and we definitely never confronted each other - there was an unspoken code about that. _What had gotten into her?_

It began in hushed tones. "You're being a jerk," she said. This was her attempt to get me to see things from her perspective. Little did she know my development was stunted in the empathy department. My vocabulary, however, could sting.

"No, I just don't want to talk to a thief and a liar." I tried to edge past her, but her fingers held a death grip on the door's frame. It would have taken physical confrontation to remove her from my path. I couldn't do that. She bruised easily.

"Don't say that," she whispered, eyes aghast. "It's for your own good!" I sensed the impending tears. I scowled. God help me, if she cried I wouldn't know whether to make it better or worse.

"Do you know what I had to do to get those?" I growled. The tendons in my neck were tight. Our volume was escalating.

"Probably something dirty and underhanded," she snapped back, shielding herself from me with her arms. _As if I could hit her_. Her hands were balled into tiny fists. She set her jaw and stared me down.

I pressed a hand against my mouth to keep from screaming. Sirens went off in my head. A hundred ways to throttle her that I would never attempt flashed through my head. She would never know, never understand because she hadn't been there, hadn't seen, hadn't experienced why I needed those drugs. Why I _deserved_ them.

"I fucking earned it, Ali. Give them back!"

"I threw them out," she shouted back. _Impertinent little bitch_. "Check the sewer system!"

_Rage. _

My vision went red. I pressed her shoulders back – hard - and the rest of her small frame stumbled to catch up. Her eyes watered, but her face was resolute as she steadied herself and lunged with a scream. She attacked me with pillow-fluff fists that I easily blocked, but the slap she landed to my face stung. I grabbed her by the wrists and shoved her into the wall as Carlisle and Edward came running to separate us.

"Jasper!" Carlisle distracted me long enough to twist an arm behind my back and kick me to my knees. I howled.

Ed had his arms around Alice, shielding her from me. He whispered in her ear in reassuring tones, but her knees were still shaking. She was a sobbing, driveling mess. I had done that. _Shit_.

"Fucking traitor!" I shouted. Carlisle had me down, but I redirected my rage to Edward anyway. He was the mastermind. My shoulder wrenched as I twisted to kick him. I grit my teeth until the pain subsided and I could breathe again.

"Grow the fuck up," he snarled, pulling Alice to a safer distance.

"Why don't you two go shack up in a hut in the mountains," I spat. "I heard being sanctimonious is easier without all the sinners."

Carlisle hauled me to my feet and prison-marched me to his room until my hysterics subsided. As proof I wasn't being sensible, I struggled. None of this was going to blow over; Alice had sided with my brother, and I had the entire house against me. No, this was the end of everything.

He held me until I could think straight enough to stop trying to hit him. When I stilled, he pushed me into a chair and stood over me. His shirt was wrinkled and his hair disheveled. He was livid. It took a lot to ruffle his feathers - usually me.

"Do you want to explain it?" he demanded.

"She started it," I exclaimed, waving my hands wildly. "She cornered me-"

He cut me off. "Do you expect me to believe a tiny girl like Alice threatened you?"

I should have known he would side with them. I stared, hope turning to despair. The last time I had pulled this crap, he threatened to kick me out. He was a man who kept his promises and his threats. This was it. Terror crushed my heart.

"Don't make me move out," I begged in a fervent whisper. My body trembled. "I don't want to leave. I don't have anywhere to go. Please? I don't know where to go!"

I got it. I understood why I had to leave. Ali was still seventeen, which made her a minor. She wasn't even adopted yet; she was still their foster kid. I was out of the system, and that made me a random man who attacked her. They were obligated to report this. And then I would get arrested, and they'd take her away from the family, and no one would forgive me, and I wouldn't know what to do. But I still didn't want to go.

"Jasper-"

"I didn't mean to, I swear." I vowed in a quavering voice.

"Jasper!"

I fell silent.

He looked like he didn't want to go there. "What's _with_ you two this week?"

I sniffed and focused on the floor. "She sided with Edward."

He had the sense not to snicker. It wasn't that ridiculous. It had been years since Edward and I had gotten along, and the void was only growing. Siding with Edward on one of our many conflict points was one of the most dangerous things to do in the house.

"No one's making you go anywhere," he said, rubbing his eyes with a groan. "I'm going to wake up with gray hair one of these days over the two of you, I swear to God."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

He snorted. "No you're not."

He knew me. I wasn't sorry at all. I was worried about Alice, but that's as far as my remorse got. I was pissed, and anger wasn't something I would give up any time soon. _Nope_. Not by a long shot.

* * *

**I'm going to be out of town next weekend, so you have to pretend 4k words was just two chapters condensed until I get back. Also, I'm dying to see your reaction to this chapter. Let me know!**


	49. Jello

**Thanks to all my reviewers! Half of you got a sneak peak at this chapter; the other half caught me while I was out of town. I guess I'm not very consistent, either. =p**

**_Previously on My Intoxication:_**

_"I'm sorry," I mumbled._

_He snorted. "No you're not."_

_He knew me. I wasn't sorry at all. I was worried about Alice, but that's as far as my remorse got. I was pissed, and anger wasn't something I would give up any time soon. Nope. Not by a long shot._

* * *

**Intox 49**

Wednesday night just wouldn't end. When Esme came home the house was still in chaos. She made a stop on the landing and then proceeded right upstairs to her bedroom, demanding to know why Edward was in the living room scolding Alice. She was crying. Still. It had been over an hour.

I think once she saw me sitting at her desk with my head in my hands she knew I was in one of my moods. She looked to Carlisle for confirmation, and he nodded from his seat on the bed where he was looking over case files. He tried to get me to talk for the last forty minutes and had just given up. She crossed the room and, kneeling in front of me, pried my hands away so she could see my face.

She took a quick survey of my clenched jaw and fixed stare and put her arms around my rigid body. Her hand patted me gently, a steady heartbeat meant to calm and reassure. Slowly, it began to work. My muscles unknotted, and I sank into her embrace, my body shaking with hysterics. What had taken Carlisle forty minutes took her only ten.

"Sweetie, what happened?"

Esme let me spew all my aggression out at once in a shaky voice that was only an inkling of self preservation away from breaking into sobs. I railed against the heavens, against humanity and Alice in a rant as confused as I was. There was a mix of blaspheming and atheist diatribes, cynicism, jaded sentiment and truth that didn't even touch the surface of what I actually felt. It was all so unfair.

She held me tighter, her voice soft as she begged me to keep talking. I obeyed until I couldn't string together coherent sentences. It felt like the entire world was against me, seven billion fingers tightening around my throat. As my last shred of composure fell apart, I devolved into gasping sobs.

"It hurts," I sobbed. I wasn't sure what all the emotions rushing around in my gut were, but they contradicted one another. I didn't like contradictions.

Esme's response was to pat my back. She had an ability to calm me like no one else. It was probably because she spent so much time around little kids just like me: scared, hurt, angry and unsure how to express it. When I pulled myself together, I detracted myself from her arms and gathered my breath.

"I hate her," I vowed shakily. The words seemed right. I nodded, affirming the decision on what to feel. I hated Alice. If I saw her again I would hurt her.

Esme shook her head. "You don't hate her. You're angry, but you don't hate her." She looked me in the eyes. "You remember what I told you about anger?"

I nodded slowly. My anger was my own; I couldn't blame anyone else for it.

"You can be angry as long as you want, but you can't hate. The same thing goes for Alice. I don't want either of you talking to each other until you can be civil, ok?"

I nodded again; it made sense that the rules had to apply to everyone. She smiled and gave me a peck on the forehead. She stood slowly and headed to talk to Alice. Esme was never happy until everyone else was happy, too. Her work was never done.

When I went to bed my face still stung from Alice's assault. My eyes were red. My voice was hoarse. My throat hurt. I was angry, bitter and, for some bizarre reason, sad. Those were three things I hated feeling, and I blamed Alice. I swore I would hold it against her until the day I died.

On Friday morning I found myself brewing her a mug of tea.

It might have had something to do with Bella and our conversation the night before. It might have been because I ran out of legitimate excuses to skip lunch period. It might have been the overwhelming isolation I felt at home. Most likely, though, it was the resentment I'd built up toward myself in the space of a day. I spent almost the entire time bitterly wondering how I'd provoked the fight and whether there was anything I could have done differently; all of my actions made sense to me, and the sheer unreasonableness of the outcome just upset me more.

I didn't know who I had been kidding. Probably myself. I couldn't be bitter with Alice; I owed her everything. Without her, I would have jumped ship back to Texas or returned to Alaska with Peter a long time ago. Without her, I would've been alone. The scenario skewed now that I had Bella, but for years my only reason for staying had been Ali's affection for the family. If she could tolerate them, then there had to be a redeeming quality I didn't understand.

She entered the kitchen and sniffed suspiciously before heading straight for the refrigerator without looking at me. Carlisle stood unobtrusively by the doorway, pretending to check his calendar while he waited for a hint of the fireworks we'd shown Wednesday. It must have been a disappointing rematch. I sighed and pushed the tea toward her without making eye contact.

"I made this for you," I mumbled, unable to stick to the apology I'd been mentally rehearsing since I'd woken. Emotions were never my strong suit.

She glanced sidelong at the peace offering and then at me. I watched her remove the cinnamon teabag; she'd always thought it weird that I let the tea steep so long, but she never complained. I shifted at the stove and stirred my gruel, waiting for a cue to smile or frown. _Anything._ I'd take anything.

"I'm not sorry," she said too quietly for Carlisle to overhear.

"I know."

She took a sip and I let out a breath. The smile widened on my face when she hopped up onto the counter. This was a good thing. In the background, Carlisle helped himself to a pastry and sat down at the table.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," I said. It was as close to an apology as I'd ever come.

She nodded. "I know."

"Let me see."

She held out her arms and drew my attention away from the thickening slop in the pan. The green and yellow bruises conformed to the shape of my fingers. I grimaced, disgusted at my actions. As an adult I should be able to control myself; I stood a foot taller than her and was twice her weight. There was no excuse for this.

I looked away and resumed cooking. My knuckles were white. They deserved to be broken. My jackass brother had a point. _What was the point in making rules if I broke them, just like everything else I touched?_ I jerked back when she put a hand over mine.

"You shouldn't forgive me," I muttered.

"How can I forgive you if you never apologize?" she said with a smile in her voice.

I chuckled despite myself. Alice grinned. She nudged me with the toe of her shoe, and I feigned exasperation as I enveloped her in a hug. _Christ_, _I'd missed her._

I shared my breakfast with Alice. She insisted on making toast to go with it. I buttered it for her while she set out bowls. I ended up eating her portion of the gruel; she ate my toast, and we both ignored Edward's lemon face. We worked well that way.

I called Bella and told her I was riding with Edward. She didn't mind. From the sound of it, she probably shouldn't be going to school anyway. Her adventure to Port Angeles had irritated her inflamed sinuses and left her with a fever. She claimed it was worth it because of the bookstore she'd found. She could have found a bookstore anywhere; I didn't see why a hacking cough was a good price to pay for a musty room full of out of print books.

Alice was excited about her art exhibit. Actually, she wouldn't shut up about it the entire drive to school. She was making up for the entire week's silence all at once. Over the weekend, she'd submitted her portfolio for review at the Seattle Foundation for the Arts; she'd gotten word that they would sponsor her gallery and run advertisements for the opening reception. She needed to pull together the details of the reception before the ads ran in next week's paper, and she needed a musician first and foremost before she could play with the ad formatting. It was going to be a big deal.

She talked faster than an auctioneer. I couldn't get a word in edgewise, so I just listened until she ran herself dry. There was no point in interrupting her. She deserved to be excited about this. If anyone had ever deserved this opportunity more than Ali, I dared them to step forward so I could knock them right back into their place. No one had the talent she did. _No one_.

I saw Bella's car in the parking lot, but the girl herself was missing. I did a walk-by of the vehicle with Alice and determined that she wasn't inside before resigning myself to smoke alone. Alice offered to stay with me, but I could tell she wanted to see her art teacher. I sent her off with a promise to meet her before lunch. If I couldn't find Bella, that was.

I caught glimpses of my girlfriend in the halls between classes but couldn't get close. She carried a square box of tissues to her classes. Even from the distance I could tell that her nose was red. I wanted to give her a hug and make her a mug of tea. She looked miserable.

I walked through the lunch line with Alice and got quadruple the normal serving of jell-o after asking Mrs. Brindley for extra. _Score!_ I grinned and thanked her for the favor last week. She shooed me off with a smile. Alice gave me a knowing glance and laughed when I pushed her forward in line.

Bella's presence in the room stirred the air. I felt it sitting across the room. _How could I miss it?_ All these boys didn't crane their heads to ogle Jessica. That would be low… even for them. I fought the urge before glancing back at the line, hoping to catch her out of the corner of my eye.

"Jesus Christ, just invite her over already!" snapped Edward.

"What?" I turned back, surprised.

"He's got a point," piped in Alice. She wasn't helping my cause.

"But-"

"It's not like we bite," he said, gesturing at the open table space. "The gossip brigade can all go fuck themselves."

I looked between them and shook my head in protest. I had a persona that everyone expected me to live up to: I smoked, scowled and skipped class. In another world I would sit beneath the bleachers and listen to rock n' roll. Every time I colored outside the lines it drew attention. I couldn't face the publicity. Call me a coward.

Edward growled in frustration. "I'm sick of this bullshit. You two have been eyeing each other up for weeks now. I'm surprised that no one else can tell."

"Can you just leave it alone?" I stabbed a gelatin square and popped it onto my mouth.

He looked past me to Bella and beckoned her with a curl of his finger. I wanted to break his fingers or remind him not to forsake his immune system, but Alice kicked me under the table.

"Alice, make him –"

_Freesia. Desert rain. Bella._

I turned. Her face was pale, but her eyes remained expressive and she could still blush. Her skin turned an irritated shade of red around her nose that no makeup could cover it. The shadows under her eyes reminded me of insomnia; I would've traded places with her in a heartbeat. My dreams were terrible anyway.

_She's sick. Comfort her, hold her. Kiss her._

_ Stay away._

"You rang?" Even sick, Bella still had a sense of humor.

"Alice and I got sick of the longing glances." Edward pointed to the chair between us at the circular table. "Sit."

Bella sat. I smiled sheepishly at her. She grinned back and greeted Alice next. Her presence added a new dynamic to the table. I couldn't call it the leveling of a battleground, but the fight felt fairer with a balance to Alice's powerful swing vote.

"Holy crow that's a lot of jell-o!" observed Bella. "Did you all combine bowls?"

"Sort of," I said, batting Alice away before she snickered. Edward raised an eyebrow, a sign Bella didn't miss.

"How'd you get that?" she asked suspiciously.

"Charisma."

Alice snorted.

"He flirts with Mrs. Brindley," Edward said smugly.

"It's called southern charm, jackass," I growled.

Bella's eyes were wide. I shrugged. "She can't touch me. I'm a student," I assured her.

"But once he drops out…" Edward trailed off. I glared at him.

"Fuck you, I'm getting out the old fashioned way."

It took both Alice and Bella to get my hackles down. I took a deep breath and looked away from my brother, and my curled fingers uncoiled from their fists. Bella looked perturbed. My smile did little to cheer her. On a confrontation scale ranging from one to Mel Gibson this was a gentlemanly invitation to duel, but she didn't know that it happened all the time.

"Want some?" I pushed my bowl across the table so she could help herself. After a second, I wiped off my fork and handed it over, too. _That _got her to smile.

_Lesson learned: Bella loves gelatin._

Conversation ebbed and flowed around the table, eventually breaking into private discussions as Edward and Bella began debating literary plot devices. I took out the numbered page Andalano had given me but couldn't focus. Alice was still freaking out about her gallery opening. I listened patiently until she stopped and reassured her with a smile while my fingers twirled around my pen. She noticed and nearly apologized for interrupting, but I interrupted her.

"Hey, Ali, what do I like?"

"Don't answer that. He's cheating," Edward said without looking up.

"The most? I'd say puppies," Alice answered promptly. I'd been laboring over the question for two days and it hadn't taken her any thought. _Not fair_.

_Puppies_. We grinned. I scribbled down the answer as the bell rang and swiped Bella's books into my arms.

"Careful, you're drawing too much attention," she said, wiggling her fingers at me like attention was the boogeyman. I loved her sarcasm.

"You're just going to trip down the stairs anyway; I'm saving you the trouble of picking up your books," I retorted and led the way to the biology lab.

Bella's silence during class was unnerving. There was distance between us, and I didn't mean the usual distance. Her mind was elsewhere. Out of the room. Not here, musing on us or even the lab assignment. Gone.

"What's wrong?" I asked under my breath.

"Nothing," she muttered.

_Nothing, huh?_ I may be socially hapless, but even I know that ninety-eight percent of women who say "nothing" either don't want to talk about it or are being passive aggressive; with the other two percent it actually _is_ nothing, but I wouldn't believe them anyway. I wanted to ask. I needed to know. Her forehead shouldn't be obscured by frown lines - it was too pretty for that fate. I opened my mouth but decided not to press the issue. _Again_.

When I caught up with her after the final bell rang that afternoon, she still looked pensive. I poked her forehead. She stumbled, unprepared, and swatted my hand away.

"You had something on your face," I said, grinning.

Bella sighed. I didn't know what it meant. My lungs felt constricted as my last shed of happiness descended into anxiety. My first thought was that she was reconsidering us. I wondered what gossip she'd overheard, who had given her enough information to glean the truth and how bad the storm was going to be if the quiet before was this intense.

"What?" I demanded, surprised at the bite in my tone.

"I've just..." she gestured helplessly, apparently as taken aback as me, "I've never seen you and Alice like that." She shrugged and looked away dismissively.

My eyebrows shot to the stars. _Was that all?_ Alice and I were _always _like that. We'd been each other's shadow since she dared to request "Over the Rainbow" while I was playing guitar at the institution. There wasn't anything odd about us, but I had the common sense to filter my thoughts.

"Want me to call you later?" I asked.

Bella nodded into my hand with a miserable little moan as we said goodbye. I brushed her hair back; her forehead was hot. I slipped past her to Carlisle's waiting car, my mind fitting puzzle pieces together at record speed. I should have run the fever through my calculations before coming to idiotic, paranoid conclusions. It only made sense that she was grumpy because she didn't feel good... _right_?

* * *

**I had a lovely weekend off visiting my family in Kansas City. Though it's weird being the "East Coast" cousin, I was so excited for the break!**

**If you could review, that would be cookies n' cream! I know I riled you all up with the last chapter, so holler back and let me know how much trouble I'm in! =p**


	50. Car Parts and Movie Smarts

_**Thanks for my reviews from last week, for all the new Story Alerts and Favs, and for pushing this story past 500 reviews... really, when did that happen? =)**_

* * *

Intox 50

Andalano sensed something vaguely wrong about the crumple piece of paper he held in his hand. He studied the words scrawled unevenly across the white surface in rolling lines, his eyes narrowing. He looked up into my eyes as I shifted in my seat and then frowned at the paper I'd given him. It was the third time he'd read it.

"I'm trying to figure out if you're bullshitting me again," he explained.

An insane part of me wanted to juggle office supplies so he would stop scrutinizing the answer. At the time, the words had seemed sincere. His eyes pierced through to my heart until I began to frown. I was starting to take this personally.

"I'm wasting my time on your stupid questions. The least you could do is hear me out," I said. "Don't disregard me because of your expectations." The words came out louder, angrier, more upset than I anticipated.

He looked dubious. "You really like puppies?"

"I _love_ puppies," I said.

My face couldn't have been any more serious if I'd had Botox. Sure, it was hard to believe that Jasper Hale, the notorious delinquent, had a soft spot. People assumed I was a tough guy or an alpha male type. I found it useless to teach them otherwise, but when it served my purpose to admit it, then _yeah_, I fucking adored the fuzzy little critters. They bore everything with acceptance and always seemed to grin like idiots. It wasn't a lie, but he clearly needed an explanation.

"When I was little, I tried to get my mom to help me steal the neighborhood dogs. I wanted to build a corral and keep them as pets," I said with a chuckle. "She said no. God knows what I would've fed them anyway.

"I played with puppies at the pet store in Anchorage sometimes," I continued, "to pass time when I skipped class or was waiting for Pete. They had little enclosures where you could get to know the merchandise before buying it, you know? They had everything… mutts, designer dogs, dogs no one should ever buy."

Andalano looked impressed. "Have you tried volunteering at the animal shelters?"

I winced. "I'm pretty much blacklisted from all the clinics and shelters in the peninsula. Carlisle hooked me up at the reservation when we moved here. I ruined that."

_Poor Carlisle_, I thought. He'd believed that Sam would keep me out of trouble and hadn't been prepared for the phone call saying I wasn't allowed back again. Sam was influential in the area. After checking around, Carlisle gave up and offered to buy me a dog despite Esme's protests and Emmett's allergies. Luckily for them, I said no.

"You were caught raiding the medical supplies."

I nodded soberly. There were times when I honestly couldn't help myself. At the time, I was stupefied. Now, with a head clearer than it had been in years, I just felt stupid.

Life was supposed to be rational – or at least organized chaos. There needed to be a defining purpose to every action, a cause to the effect. I had ruined the only thing that really mattered to me at the time, but when Andalano asked why, I had no explanation. I didn't understand, and not knowing hurt more than the truth.

The rest of our session spun my brain. To change the subject, I brought up Wednesday. We spent the time trying to pinpoint what makes the reasoning portion of my brain detach. When we failed he gave me tips to slow my response. Take deep breaths, think peaceful thoughts, find a constructive outlet, project your mind elsewhere. I'd heard them all before, but they made more sense when the doctor wasn't selling them as the cure-all for my patented brand of crazy. I felt better that it wasn't an all-or-nothing endeavor.

Dinner was tense. Alice asked me how my meeting went and I responded tersely, though in all fairness I'd never revealed the animal clinic secret to her. My words stung, provoking an equally snipping response from her, and we spiraled into petty bickering before Edward intervened.

"Shut up," he barked. "You two don't fight!"

I snapped my mouth shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, willing myself to chill the fuck out. He had a point. As much as I hated to admit it, I couldn't deal with another row like we'd had on Wednesday. It would either kill me or spin me into madness.

After dinner, I helped Carlisle clear the table while Edward went to practice piano and Alice ran off to plan her art reception with Esme. He asked me to help him move boxes in the garage, and I couldn't bring myself to say no. I was exhausted by the time I called Bella to see how she felt. Part of me wanted to blow it off, but I felt obligated after leaving her so abruptly earlier. She could tell immediately.

"You didn't have to call," she whispered. Whatever was bothering her earlier was gone, but it shredded her lungs raw as it left. Her voice was hoarse, nearly nonexistent.

"I said I would." I shrugged at the wall and began picking everything mobile off my bedroom floor so I could vacuum. The effort was noisy.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Cleaning."

"Again?"

"More like _still_."

"I should come over and help," she said with a sneeze. "My dad's getting ready for his fishing trip tomorrow. Besides, I'm efficient."

I found my excuse to avoid the conversation I knew she wanted. "Go eat soup and go to bed. I'll be over to make you jell-o in the morning."

"Yeah, when?"

"When I wake up."

"_If_ you wake up."

"Oh trust me," I said, adding a cat call, "I'll wake up for you."

She sniffled through a laugh. I could hear her ears turning pink. "Good to know."

"Goodnight, Bella," I said.

"Goodnight, Jasper," she said in a singsong voice. She blew me a kiss over the phone. I ended the connection with a grin.

I had a bitch of a time finding a ride the next morning because Carlisle had to work and it was Esme's one official "do nothing" day of the month. When I growled that he worked too much, she rolled her eyes and said that I would've just made him drive me to Bella's anyway. My smartass comeback was to demand that – if she was so upset about it – Bella should just come over for family game night next weekend. Esme agreed with a smile but still had Alice drive me in the end.

Bella opened the door, her face flushed and damp hair out of place. My pants fit loosely and her t-shirt fit like a blanket over her curves, draping off one shoulder. The artwork stretching across her breasts showed a little boy named Max with two monsters over a title saying _"I Tame Wild Things._" And then my body realized where I was staring and nearly self-combusted. I turned away and took an audible breath.

"You coming?" Bella turned back in the doorway and waved me in.

_God, I hope not. _My body was treacherous. I mentally slapped myself and then cleared my throat to answer.

"Yeah," I said with a cough as I followed her inside. "I, uh… like your shirt."

The living room looked like a hospital ward and smelled like disinfectant. Bella had set up a nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, and the coffee table was littered with empty mugs of tea and tissues. As she flopped into her seat, I surveyed for evidence of food preparation; it was one of the first things people forgot when they were sick.

"Are you hungry? Did you eat?"

She stretched with a yawn and patted the seat next to her. This was a lounging cat kind of day. I could tell already.

"Come pick a movie with me," she said.

Bella is a tractor beam: impossible to resist. I took a seat and, as second thought, propped my backpack between us so she couldn't pull a move. Ignoring her scoff, I unloaded the stack of movies I'd borrowed from the living room. None of them were technically mine, but that was a tiny detail if it met one of the genre criteria Bella liked.

"I still think you should eat," I complained. "You might starve to death while we're picking a movie."

"Could you say that again?" Bella teased, cupping an ear. "I couldn't hear you over all the wind blowing."

"God you're attractive," I said dryly as she blew her nose. She swatted my arm in response before I could duck out of reach.

"Ow, babe! Plague spreads by contact!"

"Babe?" She raised a singular eyebrow.

I looked her up and down. _Slowly_. Her ears turned pink. After a moment I turned away with a shrug. "I call 'em like I see 'em," I said.

"So... what type of movies do you like?" She seemed flustered. It was adorable, but her question distracted me.

My problem was that I didn't have a "type" of movie, per say. I watched screwball comedies with Emmett and period piece dramas with Esme. For some ungodly and contradictory reason, Ed loved slasher films, so I'd seen my fair share of those, too. Rose and Alice had what I'll politely call an "appreciation" for romantic comedies involving fashion, which basically meant I knew the plot to every movie starring Anne Hathaway and Katherine Hiegl. My movie match was probably Carlisle, but he never watched TV so I had to guess on his affinity for the action/adventure genre.

"The kind with gadgets?" I ignored how obviously clueless I was. Bella smiled. Again, the eyebrow.

"Like, spy gadgets or space gadgets?" she prodded.

I sighed. I'd always suspected my lackluster knowledge base of movies was going to kill me someday; I just didn't think it would be today. I wanted to _thunk_ my head against something hard. Struggling to find an answer, I thought back to the one time I'd watched TV with my dad. It had been late, but I wouldn't go to bed so he let me finish his bowl of ice cream and stay up until I fell asleep on the sofa. The movie had a lot of monsters and people with glowing blue eyes.

"I'd say more like disenchanted hero meets giant sand worms," I said. It sounded plausible and, at the same time, like a nonexistent movie.

I should have known that action-plus-monster was the plot of almost every science fiction movie in existence. After whittling me down until I admitted movie ignorance, Bella decided to start watching "movie classics" that I hadn't seen. Apparently, that was all of them. She didn't even trust me to work the DVD player, saying that I'd sabotage the entire system. I probably should have to get out of watching the movie she made me watch.

As the movie dragged on past its logical conclusion I decided I hated Stanley Kubrick. Bella looked half asleep in her blanket cocoon, and I didn't blame her; it was hard to imagine anyone staying awake through the whole film. It turned into a waiting game between me and the clock, but I lost. Bella nudged me awake as the credits rolled.

"I was enjoying the background noise," I complained, getting to my feet to stretch. She blew her nose in response.

I insisted that she eat something and, when she moaned about not wanting to get up, hoisted her into my arms and moved her into the kitchen, blanket and all. She rested her head against my chest and breathed deeply. When I deposited her into a chair, she resisted. We both snickered as I loosened her grip on my shoulders a finger at a time.

"I love your smell," she pouted.

"Cigarette smoke? Or, are you saying I smell like a stuffy nose?" I feigned irritation but couldn't resist smiling. It was hard to be grumpy with Bella around.

She started to get up, but I pushed her back into the seat.

"I've got this," I said.

My only problem was finding where the easy food was stored. I ran a hand through my hair and looked around the room. Even the appliances seemed alien. Bella smiled in amusement and leaned back. The last time I'd made such a confident assertion had brought interesting results.

I searched her cabinets for comfort food. Ordinarily, there would be something pre-packaged or canned that could be heated. It would have red or orange coloring prominently on the label and have ten times the recommended daily dose of sodium. It would be a last resort kind of food with a mental label reading _Caution: Use only if Sick._ A bachelor would keep these things, but it looked like Bella had reorganized the kitchen when she moved in.

The doorbell rang. Thanking God, I straightened from my fruitless inspection of the spice cupboard and went for the door before Bella could react. She protested in vain. I quieted her with a wave of my hand and opened the door.

Jet black hair hung in tendrils over the collar of his flannel shirt. Muscles moved his ill-fitted undershirt as he readjusted his balance awkwardly in response to my surprise appearance. I watched as his black eyes narrowed, his russet features squirrel up, confused and wary of my presence.

"Is Bella here?"

His voice hesitated. It was rich, with just a hint of dialect from the Reservation. I was amazed that a voice so deep could keep so quiet. Emmett was always booming; it was one of the reasons Esme stopped taking him to church.

"In the kitchen," I said, equally discomfited.

I held the door open, trying to figure out when the hell he'd grown up. He picked up the paper bag at his feet and lumbered inside with a toothy grin. Bella looked up miserably before breaking into a wide-eyed smile when she saw him. I leaned against the doorway and watched.

"Jake! What are you doing here?"

"My dad said you were sick." He said, still grinning. He set down the bag and removed a tall plastic container of soup. I could smell the chicken through the lid. My mouth watered. I wondered how sick to my stomach I would get if I gorged myself on meat after abstaining so long.

Bella beamed and turned to me eagerly. "Billy makes the _best_ soup."

Jacob Black studied me with his piercing black eyes before turning back to Bella. My arms folded over my chest. I leaned away, uncomfortable with his appraisal and confused by his presence. Bella got the hint once she saw the dubious look on my face.

"Oh! This is my friend, Jake. We've been playing in the same sandbox since we were three. His dad found sold me the truck when I moved back here."

It made sense. Bella got along with everyone. I nodded. She looked up at me with splotches of pink staining her cheeks.

"Jake, this is my boyfriend, Jasper."

His eyes widened. I shuffled into the room and shook his hand. His grip was firm.

"You're Sam's little brother, right?"

He nodded.

"He runs a tight ship. Good guy," I said and took my usual seat at the table.

Jacob laughed heartily and sat in the empty chair. I assume he'd heard all about me from his brother - most of the Reservation had – but he didn't give it away directly.

"Hide the silverware, Bella. Palefaces have greedy fingers," he said.

"Is that why all my forks and knives came from your house?" Bella quipped before I had time to bristle at the insult.

It took a sniffle for me to remember why I'd dragged Bella into the kitchen to begin with. She smiled drowsily and pulled her blanket tighter as I hopped to my feet. I fetched a bowl and spoon and helped her some soup while she chatted with her friend. It was lucky that he showed up right before I had to actually cook something. I pushed the steaming meal across the table.

"She doesn't eat," I explained.

Jacob chuckled. "Sounds like her."

We talked while she ate. Jacob was in the process of fixing up an old Volkswagen Rabbit. He needed to replace pieces of the motor but was missing a few parts and some tools. Though I was no expert, I was sure Rosalie had the tools hanging around somewhere collecting dust. The more we talked, the more earnest he sounded; his enthusiasm aroused my interest in cars – something Rose had never been able to do – and I found myself volunteering her workshop and tools… on the condition that she never found out. I didn't want to face that vengeance.

"So, what're you guys up to today?" His eyes flickered between us.

I deferred to Bella to explain how much of an imbecile I was. She obeyed dutifully and then one-upped me by inviting him to stay for the next movie. I hadn't expected that part. Luckily, he shook his head and came up with an excuse.

I walked him as far as the porch steps before stopping to light my cigarette. Realizing I'd stopped, he turned to say his goodbyes. I thought perhaps he could have worn a shirt that fit him better. We shook hands.

"Nice to meet you," I said.

"I know who you are," he said. "You aren't like Sam said, though."

"I'm not like a lot of people say," I said, though their assumptions were often too close for comfort.

"I don't know what to think." He frowned thoughtfully. The kid was smart. He was also a decent guy. If so, he would feel obligated to tell Bella what he knew. I had to nip that in the bud.

"Decide after you see the workshop." I tried to smile through the bribe. The boy was naïve. It worked.

He grinned. "Deal."

She was fitting a new movie into the player when I returned. I heard carbonation and looked around the room until I spotted the glass of seltzer water. Curious, I sniffed. My nose scrunched in horror. _Medicine_.

Bella snickered. "Want some?"

"I'm more partial to cough syrup and pills."

I returned the cup, my nose wrinkled in distaste. She stuck out her tongue and then chugged the fizzy drink. She almost gagged. I did.

The movie started slowly, and we made meaningless chitchat before anything actually happened. It wasn't until she asked tentatively whether I was excited for Alice's gallery that I paid attention. I retracted my outstretched feet and sat up properly to figure out why she'd mentioned it. _Fishy._

Alice had been drawing beautifully as long as we'd known each other, and even the newer mediums she learned were magnetic. The sketches were realistic, the painting managing to walk the line between lucid and surreal. Each piece was toned, colored, shaded, distorted and, never failing, evoked an emotional response. Of _course_ I was excited.

Bella hesitated, confused, on the verge of explaining her question. She stopped and chose her words with a suspicious amount of care. "I thought, after seeing you guys yesterday, that you'd talked about it." Disappointment was laced through her words.

"Talked about what?" I stiffened, my hackles raised at the thought of either of them keeping secrets from me.

She read my reaction and tried to soothe me. "It's nothing bad," she promised.

I crossed my arms, dissatisfied with the answer. "So tell me," I insisted.

Bella squirmed and looked away. "She's been dying to ask you all week. I can't."

_Dying?_ Alice hadn't mentioned shit to me. Disbelief and suspicion whipped around me. Alice told me everything. There wasn't a high or low point in our lives we didn't share. No fucking way she would keep something from me. Not unless… not unless I was being a jerk.

_Fuck_.

"Tell me." I needed to know.

"Can we just watch the movie?" She cringed and looked at the screen.

"I'll call home right now, Bella. I swear to God," I threatened.

She called my bluff and shushed me. The movie finally had some promising dialogue. I ground my teeth and sat back moodily. She gave me an exasperated look.

"I don't understand you," she said. "You come over when my dad's out, and then you get all petulant and sit at the other end of the couch."

I waited. I wanted to know where this was going.

"Most guys would take that as an invitation, but... I don't get it."

"You're a minor," I said with my eyes on the screen, "and I don't rob cradles."

"What a gentleman," she retorted. Without looking, I could feel her roll her eyes. I smirked.

"Besides, you're sick," I added, trying hard to keep a straight face. "I don't like cooties."

"And common sense to boot!" she crowed. "I'm luckiest girl in the world."

I doubted that she'd say that once she knew that she'd chosen the only person in the world who would covet her relentlessly, jealously, fiercely but not touch her. Our relationship was like a mythological curse: what you wanted came at a price. My mind drew parallels to Pandora and a thousand other parables. I was just a reflection in the water.

Was it was common sense to be this selfish? There was a lingering doubt, a hint of mistrust swimming though my sensory channels that said _yes_. Edward might have called it a poison of doubt, but my paranoia usually benefited me in the long run.

It wasn't that I was uneasy around her. I was fine around her - if I liked my body reacting unpredictably at her touch and my brain getting woozy when she smiled. Ok, maybe I wasn't fine. Maybe I was a mess around her, but at least she slopped me back together. I still couldn't figure out why she'd picked me over all the dipshits that were better for her. I was a bastard to put her through this.

I glanced over. Bella was flushed beneath her blankets. I sighed and pulled her over to me, wrapping my arms beneath her shirt and around her waist. She inhaled sharply but chose to lean into me instead of pull away.

"Your hands are cold," she said with a little moan.

"_Mhmm_," I agreed. They always seemed to be. I kissed her neck and enjoyed the temptation in her smell. "Let me know if you get cold."

She hummed, her eyes already closing. "Never."

When the Chief returned home that evening, I was watching the menu screen phase through a preview of the movie. Before he could speak, I put a finger to my mouth and gestured next to me. Bell was asleep as she had been for the past two hours, her head in my lap and arm curled around my thigh. I was her human pillow.

He stooped and picked her up gently. As soon as her weight was off me I stretched my cramped muscles. Her dad was amused at the crackling sound that resounded in my joints. The suppressed smile was familiar, another telltale sign of their close bond. I stood and cleaned up the living room while he took her to bed.

"I shouldn't be here," I said when his footsteps had come back down the stairs. "I'm sorry."

He let me off the hook with a careless wave. "Jake told me you were over." He shrugged. "I'm not surprised."

My feet were jittery. I shifted in place and rubbed my forearms. "I'd better get going," I said, not wanting to seem anxious but fully ready to get the fuck out of the house.

"Need a ride?"

The sun had warmed the afternoon, drying the rain puddles and releasing all the heavenly scents of earth. The cacophony of birds outside screamed it to the heavens. The skies were probably bluer than they'd been last week. I shook my head, said a quick goodbye and let myself out the front door. I needed time to devise a tactful way to talk to Alice. If she was hiding something from me, I _would_ figure it out.

* * *

**I feel like this is a most telling chapter. ****It makes me so excited for the next three chapters, but**** it's up to you to let me know what it told _you_! **

**Chapter 51 will be up next week. Sneak peek: **_They talked. What the fuck did that mean? What did those two have to talk about, kittens? Glitter?_


	51. The Cat that Fell out of the Bowling Bag

**_I'm taking the opportunity to thank all you for the reviews I got last week for Chapter 50. I'm always insecure writing something that may be construed as 'fluff' so it was amazing to see such a positive response! Contrary to Jasper's steadfast belief, not everybody hates him, and I'm glad you guys noticed. _**

**_Also, mad props to reader for being the only person _**not** _to hate Alice over the few weeks. That takes dedication! =)_**

* * *

Intox 51

A breeze laced with pollen blew through the air. I walked briskly through town, my feet lighter because of the warm sun on my face. My lips lifted at the edges, despite my racing thoughts. The entire neighborhood was outdoors today to enjoy the rare weather. Teenagers sped by on bikes. Children played tag, their games spilling onto the asphalt streets.

I passed the small, single story library that had seen better days and better books. The gas station that hiked its prices because there was no competition. The local diner where all the lumberjacks ate steak and potatoes. The sports store run by the Newton family. The small strip of stores where the youth congregated.

I paused to light a cigarette and saw how few I had left. I frowned, waging an internal debate on whether I ought to conserve my supplies. In the end, I decided to smoke anyway. With my head all spun up like cotton candy there wasn't anything I could do to calm my nerves. My limbs felt like dancing the jitterbug. Pun intended.

The rapid shift in moods confused me. I couldn't tell what to do. Should I trust Bella? What about Alice? I'd never thought twice about her intentions. I'd never been jealous of her friendships – never dreamed that there could be something wrong with talking. _Until now_.

They talked. What the fuck did that mean? What did those two have to talk about, kittens? _Glitter?_ I was an arrogant fool to think it was all about me, but… wasn't it? Bella's hint gave me little room to doubt.

Doubt had never seemed so trying. I smoked my way down the road leading out of Forks. My veins ached for something stronger, for chemical reactions and euphoria that I wasn't going to feel any time now. So I took to my cigarette and dragged it down _hard_. It was like getting diet when you asked for regular.

In the end I proved less than tactful. I marched into the living room and hovered over her where she sat drawing on the couch.

"What the fuck have you been telling my girlfriend?" I couldn't tell whether I was angry that she was keeping secrets from me or jealous that she was telling them to Bella. She caught on immediately and answered my unspoken question. _Go figure._

"What, I'm not allowed to have friends?"

Of _course_ she was allowed. She'd just never needed them before. The two of us had been enough, a team, each others sidekicks. When I lived with Peter, I talked to two people – Rose and Alice – because life was impossible without them. And now we were fighting because of something even more improbable, because of Bella. We never fought this territorially. The chasm at our feet was widening, separating us, but I refused to address step back from it. I deflected her question.

"There's something you're not telling me, and that's beyond fucked up!"

Her face was deceptively passive. She looked up at me through a veil of eyelashes and jet black hair. "Some secrets aren't sinister, Jasper."

I took deep breath and tried to keep my voice politely audible. "I want to know what you talk about."

She looked at me in disbelief and opened her mouth to finally give me a fucking answer when Edward strolled in, book in hand. We froze and looked at him. His eyes moved between us. This was the verbal equivalent to a Mexican standoff.

"What's the squabble this time?" he said, cracking his back.

"We're just talking." Alice said. The ice in her voice chilled the room as I counted down from ten. My temper flared. Hers chilled. _Fire and ice._ If it went much farther there would just be steam.

"I heard shouting." Ed said, ignoring the signs of her fraying nerves. I bristled for her.

"It's a conversation, fuck-face. Verbal dialogue is going both ways!" I growled.

He nodded in understanding, but his smirk mocked us. He sat in the recliner and leaned back to watch. "Can you wait while I make popcorn? I don't want to miss anything."

My fists clenched. Alice grabbed my wrist as I made a move for him and pulled me toward the door. "C'mon," she muttered, her voice icy. "Let's take a walk."

Esme came downstairs and asked Edward what happened as we stomped to the foyer. "Alice made a friend, and it's not Jay." I swear I heard him laugh. I turned back, ready to beat the living shit out of him, but Alice yanked me out the door.

We walked down the drive, gravel kicking up in our wake. Our conversation was quiet now, tempered by the beautiful evening. The sharp edge, however, lay beneath the surface as Alice explained herself.

"I didn't say anything about the reception because you'd refuse anyway," she said.

"How do you know that?" I challenged.

She turned to me, eyes flashing with anger and tears. "Because you don't play your guitar anymore! Not alone, not for me, not for anyone!"

That wasn't entirely true. I played for Isabella Swan, a girl who didn't know what a gift it was. But Alice had been there. Alice knew its importance, and I'd be lying if I didn't resent that knowledge at times. She saw me inside and out, thoroughly, unreservedly. It was terrifying.

It was easy to play for Bella because she didn't understand. She could hear the music, not the history, in the strings. To her it wasn't a method of communication or a coping mechanism. It didn't remind her of anything but the pick, the chord. She only heard the melody, the song. She simplified my life, and I loved her for it.

"By the time Bella suggested it, you didn't want to talk to me anyway. She thought you'd say yes. Edward said it would just piss you off. I was afraid-"

My ears stopped listening once I registered what she'd said. _Bella's _suggestion… _Bella_ wanted to hear me play. _Bella_ thought I could do this. If it was Bella's wish, it was my command.

"I'll do it."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Don't ask why. I'll do it." I looked away toward the glowing sunset. "Leave it at that."

We walked a loop around the house before heading inside. Neither of us spoke. Just digesting the enormity of what I'd agreed to tied both our tongues, and something about discussing or playing guitar without Bella present was unsettling to me. It wasn't a conversation to continue today.

I called Bella immediately to let her know my answer. She didn't answer, which I'd anticipated. I left a message but stopped on the verge of thanking her. I still wasn't sure how happy I was with my spontaneous decision. Spur of the moment agreements came from a murky, gray place that I didn't control. And then I lived with the aftermath.

Dinner was quiet because no one was sure how to take Alice's pensive attitude and my stormy expression. Esme's questions about my day at Bella's house were met by monosyllabic responses, and Edward was equally put off that Alice had suddenly lost interest in chatting about her exhibit opening. Esme asked me, finally, what was wrong.

I stirred my food. "I said I'd play guitar for Alice's reception."

The stretching silence broke as Edward's fork hit the table. The _thunk _reverberated through the room. He didn't move to pick it up. When I looked I recognized the frozen expression and wide eyes of disbelief.

"Holy shit," he said.

I counted the grains of rice on my plate as Esme congratulated me. My stomach ached. It was too much pressure. This was the reason I stayed off the radar. Now that I'd shown up they expected too much from me, and I wouldn't be able to deliver.

Edward was still looking at me. He hadn't moved at all, his face still screwed up into an odd look. His green eyes were just a bit brighter, though.

"_What_?"

He shook his head. "When they came up with the idea, I laughed. I didn't think it was possible after-" he stopped himself just in time and frowned.

Then he smiled, a spark that might one day kindle a fire. He was surprised by me – but this was one moment in a thousand… a hundred thousand in which the sentiment was pleasant. This was unfathomable. He wasn't picking at my choice or even being condescending. And I could tell he wasn't excited, either. I didn't know what to make of it.

I needed a cigarette.

Four and a half minutes later I was pacing across the driveway when I noticed Edward beside me. His sneak entrance was improving. He waved the smoke away and kept time with me easily. After a few minutes, he allowed himself to speak.

"I can already see the look on your face," he said. "I'm not suggesting that you're panicking. I'm just saying that, maybe, you should keep in mind that your sole presence won't make or break anything."

I stopped and listened. The smoke curled from my nostrils while I waited. He wasn't done. Mr. Mentalist over here had a point to make that I hadn't even considered.

"It's not an all-or-nothing thing," he said, "so it's no big deal.

Just the fact that he was talking to me now meant that it _was_ a big deal. Everyone thought so. But it still helped to be reassured. My lips twitched.

"You're a terrible liar."

"It doesn't have to be a lie," he said, his body automatically leaning away from my smoke cloud. His voice was earnest. And honest. Two things I couldn't deal with at the moment.

"_Don't_. Just... don't." I looked up at the sky, surprised to see the stars already emerging into purple twilight. "Life is less complicated when I don't like you."

He nodded to himself as if it was to be expected. I watched him turn, kicking gravel, from the corner of my eye. He retreated, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I massaged my temples. My brain hurt.

That night when I sat down at my desk, I opened my desk drawer and removed the folded paper stuffed near the back. I smoothed it open and studied the lines creasing the paper into sixths. My hand trembled as I reached for my pen and filled in the third blank.

_My guitar is my memento._

I looked at the words. They pleased me, written neatly across the page. The ink hadn't bled through or smudged the sentiment behind the characters. I enjoyed the roll of the sentence across my tongue. I especially liked that it had been my own conclusion. _Thank you, Bella, for giving me that knowledge._

* * *

By the time I made it to her house for breakfast on Monday, Bella was better than normal. She was all charm and subtle flirting. I tried to keep my face straight as she feigned innocence around her father. The man was a police chief. If that intuition hadn't been enough, the look on his face, like he was trying not to cough in church, told me more than enough.

When she ran upstairs to finish getting ready, I started laughing and couldn't stop. Her dad looked at me and saw me trying to rein myself in. He cracked a smile and, seeing that I was failing miserably, laughed with me.

"She's about as subtle as an M-80 at a funeral," I said between breaths. I had tears in my eyes.

"Like an elephant in an antique store," he agreed.

Bella returned to the two of us grinning like Cheshire cats. We finished breakfast, and I asked Chief Swan if Bella could come to family night on Saturday. He allowed, we shook hands and then he threatened my life if I got his daughter into any trouble.

"I can see where the subtlety comes from," I said.

He nodded. "Damn straight!"

We parted ways grinning. Bella just looked confused.

I left with Carlisle after school before I got the chance to see Bella. My entire being was repulsed by the thought of talking to Andalano, and I argued with Carlisle the entire ride over. He had the patience of a thousand saints. He listened silently. Then he led me to the door and shoved me through.

Andalano had me talking about my guitar and the gallery reception I'd agreed to. He hit upon my reluctance immediately, which spiraled into an uncomfortable conversation about failing the people you care about. I got moody when we examined the difference between success and failure and downright pissy when he suggested it wasn't as clear cut as I pretended.

Luckily for him, my hour ran out shortly after. I stormed out and called Bella on my way downstairs, Carlisle following in quick pursuit. Our conversation was quick, to the point and over before I'd hit the ground floor. I even managed to punch a few walls and dent a door before he caught up with me.

I barely had to snap at him. We picked up Bella at home five minutes later for dinner. I needed someone with me when I opened my guitar case. My family wanted smiles, effort and honesty; Bella wanted a melody. I needed the reassurance of someone who didn't expect anything from me but music. I couldn't do it alone.

* * *

On Thursday we lounged on her couch and pretended to study, just like we'd done here Tuesday and done Wednesday at my house. This lazy time between guitar practice and dinner was part of our emerging pattern. There were things we should actually be doing - like finishing up that biology project we'd been putting off for two weeks - but I enjoyed listening to stories about Bella's life more than applying myself.

I ran my fingers through her hair and chuckled when she told me about the day her mom had painted her room neon pink. The color was scary and she never recovered from the shock. When she told me that she'd cried and they'd had to put on three coats of white paint to tone down the color, I nearly died laughing. Renee sounded like a riot. I needed to meet the woman.

_ Wait, what?_

Bella's phone beeped. From the way she answered it, I knew it was Angela. Bella didn't respond to anyone quite the way she did that girl. After a minute, she held her hand over the receiver and looked at me. I didn't like the way she gulped before speaking.

"Ben and Angela are going to the bowling alley later. They wanted to know whether we wanted to go. Just the four of us?"

_Shit_. She'd phrased it as a question.

Hell no I didn't want to go! Bowling was the stupidest sport ever invented; I'd never understood the point of throwing a ball down an alley to knock things over. The strategy of the game was lacking, the environment was obnoxiously loud and they made you wear foul smelling shoes. It didn't have a respectable military background like football did, and it was painfully public.

I looked at her face, beaming with nervous excitement, and sighed. Ben and Angela already knew about us, anyway. As long as the group remained selective, there was no imminent danger. There was no excuse.

I couldn't say no to her. "Sure, what the hell. Let's do it."

Two hours later, I hated my decision. The noise was overwhelming. The carpet had a dirty teal hue that seemed murky in the dim lighting. Wood panels covered the first four feet of every surface from the floor up and were stained with dirty streaks of black. Shoes scuffmarks. I smelled stale smoke, but the sign on the door forbid me to indulge.

Bella was excited. She and Angela squealed and hugged. Ben and I stood behind them, our faces stoic. We looked like bodyguards. That wouldn't do at all.

I shook his hand. "I don't know anything about you," I said.

He actually laughed once he recovered from the shock of my blunt attitude. "Well, I guess that makes two of us."

We took the dirty shoes from the clerk and headed for our lane. The girls were chattering, but neither Ben nor I knew what to say. We skulked along behind them, testing conversation waters with stereotypically macho things. _Cars. Hunting. Sports. Video games_. He liked baseball and played Atari.

I had a feeling I'd just made a new friend.

Despite the fact that I was just _glowing_ with the joy of newfound friendships, I would have been a thousand times happier if Bella had been ready to leave after the first game. Not only was I terrible at the sport, but it would have saved me the rest of the evening. The girls excused themselves to the restroom, however, and left us twiddling our thumbs.

The bell above the entrance chimed. I looked.

"Ah, fuck."

Ben followed my line of sight to the door where Jessica and Mike had just wandered in. He groaned and looked away quickly, but it was too late. They'd sensed us like predators sense bleeding prey. In a minute the scoreboard next to ours had their names on it, and they officially were part of the group. I grimaced.

"I'm _so_ sorry," Ben mouthed as they sat to put their shoes on.

I tried to look away, but it was a useless endeavor. Jessica was probably jumping up and down on the inside. Encouraged by my proximity to Ben, a close member of the lunch table gang, she approached. She shouldn't have.

"I didn't think I'd see you here," she chirped.

"Believe me, if I'd known I'd see _you_, I would've killed myself first," I replied sweetly. I thought choking to death on my own vomit would have been a reasonable way to get out of seeing her, but the look on her face when I mentioned it said she disagreed.

She turned to Bella and Angela with a smile as they returned. I was glad neither of them had witnessed me pull the daggers out. I did hope, however, that Jessica had gotten the hint. _Hint: I don't want to acknowledge your existence again tonight._

They stuck with us like rodents. Or lice. Whichever is worse. It went beyond pesky. They fed off my misery and griping, and I grew quieter and more withdrawn as clock on the wall ticked onward, its minute hands caught in molasses. I had nothing nice to say to Jessica, and something in the dark pit of my being that I called a soul wanted to cause bodily harm to Mike every time he looked at my girlfriend.

I listened to Bella try to explain my presence to the newcomers. She wasn't doing well, not even by her standards. When she finally looked to me with pleading eyes, I managed to find a ragged cuticle to inspect. She seethed internally at my general apathy but was incapable of saying anything in public.

Two more games was an intolerable concept, but I lived through it. We caught a single private moment in which she asked me whether I needed to go, and I responded that I was fine. My tone was a slap in the face. I tried to explain myself but she'd gone, the moment had passed and Jessica's eyes were prowling for juicy details. It wasn't Bella's fault that they'd shown up here; Forks didn't have many social options and she wouldn't have known. I sighed. I was going to pay for this later.

I paid for it at the counter. The attendant at the register saw the group of us walking over and froze. Someone got sidetracked talking to a relative... _blah, blah, blah_. I wasn't paying attention. I just wanted to sort it out with the trainee behind the counter and leave.

I mapped it out for her. "The little kittens are paying for themselves, the blond kid is paying for... _that_," I said, meaning both literally and figuratively, "and I'll pick up the lady's tab."

She suppressed a smile at my descriptions. I handed her my credit card and leaned against the counter, trying to make small talk over her stammering responses. She glanced over. I grinned. She looked away with a blush and slid my receipt over the counter. She'd given me a discount and a phone number. I signed and turned to the now assembled horde.

Ben stepped forward to pay. I looked at Bella and jerked my head to the door. She shook her head.

"I still have to pay."

"Don't worry about it." I held up the receipt. _Wasn't this something boyfriends were for?_

Jessica's eyebrows rose significantly. "So, what is this, like, a triple date?"

_Ew. Not ever. Never ever with you breathing the same air as me._

Bella looked up sharply. I'd never seen someone's eyes so full of panic, and with good reason. I pinched the bridge of my nose, already regretting the retort falling from my mouth. "Jess, darlin', could you just shut the fuck up for one goddamned minute?"

Everyone stared. Ben and Angela, Jess, Mike, the girl whose phone number was on the back of my receipt... even the middle aged couple with a pair of 8-year-olds just walking through the door. I was the cat amongst church mice, and I'd just swallowed a bigger bite than I'd meant to. It tasted bitter. I felt in my pocket for my cigarettes but couldn't remove them smoothly. Their eyes were unnerving.

"Fuck this." I left.

Bella bounded after me immediately, calling for me to stop, without apologizing to her friends. I made it outside and around the corner of the building before those short strides caught up.

"What was that all about?"

"I tried, really I did," I said, taking a long drag and pulling half the cigarette down to embers, "but I can't do it."

"You're being such an ass! What's gotten into you?"

"Hi, I'm Jasper Hale. It's nice to meet you." I reintroduced myself. Apparently she'd forgotten who I was. She didn't accept my proffered hand.

"Don't get snarky-"

"She told the entire school my sister was pregnant, ok? But I guess everyone needed to know about her fucking eating disorder."

I stopped pacing and leaned against the wall. My head hit with a dull thump, and I winced. Bella was there in an instant, her fingers soft as she reached to feel for a bump. I didn't deserve her sympathy.

"Fuck." I muttered. Sometimes I couldn't believe the words that came from my mouth. "Don't tell Rose I said that."

"That's your reason for being so secretive about _us_?" she said tentatively.

"I know what she'll say."

"I don't care, Jasper."

"Yes, you do!"

"No, _you_ care."

I was speechless at the ferocity of her words. She was turning my argument against me. This was both unprecedented and dangerous.

"Do you want to be with me? Because you've got a cold way of showing it."

"I'm being chivalrous," I snapped back.

"This isn't the 19th century anymore, Jasper. There's such a thing as physical contact." She turned away, and I sensed my defeat. She was a modern girl. I took a final drag and flicked my cigarette. It landed and fizzled out in the rain as I grabbed her by the shoulders. My kiss slammed her against the grimy brick wall. She squeaked, unprepared for the impact her words carried.

"You have no idea how much I want to be with you," I murmured into her ear. "You want attention, you've got me."

My hand slid under her shirt as I placed kisses along her jaw. I expected her to stop me, but my fingers traced the curve of her hip and the smooth curve of her body. Her knees shook.

"Ja-a..." Her breath trembled when I cupped her breast, but she regained her voice. "We're in public!"

"Call it exhibitionism," I whispered and kissed her. My lips were forceful, leaving her no room for retreat. She linked two fingers through my belt loops and pulled me against her, ensuring that I could not surrender, either.

It was like time stopped just for us. The clock froze. There was no time to breathe or think. This was it. _Us. Here. Now_.

I picked her up without breaking away. She was light enough that it was easy. Her legs wrapped around my waist, feeling just how much I wanted her as I pressed her into the brick. I ran my hand up her body and over skin I'd never seen. She shifted her hips. I groaned into her mouth as the sensation roared through my veins.

The fire was too hot, the need too much. Her lips tasted too sweet, and I craved more. There would never be enough of her, and only once she was crushed by my desire would I give up my search of it.

"Oh. My. God." It was Jessica's voice. The clock had just jump-started.

_ Fuck_.

I didn't want to look, but we both knew. Bella's face was scorched by a blush darker than I'd ever thought possible. It was physically impossible for me to blush – my shame just wasn't strong enough – but I closed my eyes until I could breathe again.

Bella looked away, mortified, as I set her gently back onto her feet. I put her between me and them as a visual shield while I made sure my shirt was untucked. Her face was obscured by a waterfall of brown waves. As if they didn't know it was her. Jessica's mouth gaped in disbelief as she stared. Mike looked nauseated, his eyes evincing betrayal. Of _course_ they knew it was us.

Ben and Angela looked away from the scene, embarrassed to have walked into something so intimate in public. Knowing we were together and seeing proof were two very different things. I didn't even need a number scale to know just how badly they wished they could wash our red handprints off the wall.

Thankfully, Angela took charge of the situation and shooed them away. Jessica resisted, her mouth bobbing open and shut, before being whisked away like a tedious stage performer. Night eased in around us. We were standing in a parking lot about twenty feet from her truck. Life would've been so much easier if we'd fought there. I ran my tongue slowly over my lips and tried not to laugh at the thought.

Her face was still tomato red. She slapped my arm and started nervously adjusting her clothes and hair. _Typical girl_. I snickered and straightened, still too full of endorphins to start panicking about the consequences or sinking in guilt. I could give it a minute until the horror set in.

"Well, I guess _that_ cat's out of the bag," I said slowly.

Bella was not amused.

* * *

**E/N: I feel like this is the most important chapter in a long time, so I really, _really, really_ want to know what you're thinking. I'll even offer a penny for your thoughts! **

**C'mon, Silent Readers, leave a little love! The cat is out of the bag!**


	52. Impulsive Billboards

**_Thank you for the great response last week and the lovely reviews that made me smile. Now that you new reviewers know I don't bite, I hope you'll stop by more often... the ride's just getting started!_**

**_Special shout out to SAVAGEGRACEx for being the only reviewer to go that extra mile in disliking Alice!_**

**_Also, if any of you ever get the chance to read "Take My Hand" by koko23cat, do it ASAP. It's phenomenal and one of only a handful of stories I look forward to on a weekly basis._**

**_~Mandala M._**

* * *

Intox 52

Our relationship was common knowledge by 8 a.m. the next day. Though there wasn't enough time in the world to plead forgiveness with Bella, time had magically slowed so the news could disseminate overnight. I blamed social media, Jessica and myself. I wanted to burn the world but couldn't. It was my fault, really.

When I hopped out of Edward's car, I immediately spotted Bella surrounded by a throng of teenagers near the stairs. My stairs. My smoking spot. I felt intruded upon already, and the day hadn't even begun.

_Fuck. My. Life._

She broke away as soon as she saw me approaching. I got the distinct impression that she was fleeing for safety. Heads turned to watch her retreat. Her hair whipped in the air, exposing her pale skin. My eyes followed the smooth curve of her neck until the deep v-neck of her shirt directed my attention further south. I bit my lip. For someone who hated attention, she sure knew how to attract it.

"Thank God!" She looked pale, shaken.

Last night I asked her whether she wanted me to drive with her, but she had too much faith in humanity. She'd said no. She said she could handle it. Apparently she couldn't.

"Fucking savages," I growled. I put my arm around her and whisked her through the doors.

I stuck by her side until first period separated us so no one could bother her. She may be the bulls-eye, but no one had the balls to hit the target with me around. No, they looked the other way rather than meet my gaze. I had that effect on people.

There was no direct gossip with me in the room, but I felt the cautious glances in my direction. The sensation prickled the hairs on my neck and left me edgy. My fists balled with tension. I felt like I was standing on a grave.

My teacher erupted before me. "C'mon class! Seeing as Mr. Hale doesn't have horns or purple splotches, there is no reason for distraction. The next one gets in-school detention and a five page essay to write on body modification."

His threat had nothing to do with class work. I didn't have the courage to look at him, so I kept my head down until the bell rang. I thanked him by dropping a set of back-dated papers on his desk and keeping my eyes down.

_Three classes to go_…

I wasn't fond of the attention, and I knew Bella wasn't faring any better. She couldn't explode in rage or physically remove someone from her path. I could. Overreacting didn't faze me as much as not being able to return to the obscurity I'd spent my entire time in Forks trying to create. People were staring.

_ Two classes remaining…_

I overheard some talk about me that stopped me cold. I slapped a hand over the scar on my neck. I hated freshmen_._

Reminding myself that it was illegal to snap someone's neck or crush tracheas – and worse to do so in public – I forced my feet to move. Lying came in handy. I was _not_ upset. I was _not_ craving ignorance, numbness, emptiness, silence, sleep. My feet carried me to class. It hurt. I cursed. There was nothing to take the edge off.

_ One class left…_

My hand was stuck on my neck. _Superglued_ on. You'd need acetone and the Jaws of Life to pry away my safety bandage. I never knew other people noticed the way it seemed to emit its own light. I didn't know they saw it the way I did, but today gossip taught me otherwise. My flaws didn't shine. They fucking glowed in the dark. My body was a neon billboard.

I was pissed.

_Bella_.

No one at the table looked particularly happy today. Bella was glum, Alice had a pinched expression that was never good and Edward was brooding. And I was angry. If the fire alarm went off, I would probably direct Jessica Stanley to the nearest janitor's closet instead of an exit. I would even stay near to make sure she burnt with the school. We would make great company in Hell, provided I didn't kill myself again to get away from her.

I had no appetite. None of us did. Even if we had, it was too awkward to navigate the lunch line. The public was gathering around us with stones, ready to attack because we stole their shiny new toy - not that Bella had ever fit in here. She was as much an outsider in this backward town as us.

"So, kiddos, how was your day?" I managed a forced smile. This was the product of my lack of self-restraint, and the least I could do was lighten the mood.

Alice picked at her fingernails. "Tom is back."

Well _that _explained her mood. I grimaced. Tom had been enamored with Alice since we moved here. He was awkward and artsy, but in an unsettling way that threw out all kinds of stalker vibes. I explained the situation to Bella in three sentences constructed mostly of euphemisms before turning back to Alice.

"I thought I scared him off," I said.

"Apparently that threat doesn't hold up now that I'm on the rebound," she said dryly.

I snorted back a laugh. There was no way in hell that threat had an expiration date. Teenagers had a tendency to put more faith in their immortality than reality. Maybe I needed to renew our agreement.

Bella looked at me, eyes wary. "What threat?"

"It's nothing. Not anymore." I smiled and looked around the table for a new story.

Edward met me with a withering look. I was glad it couldn't kill. "I'd rather not say what _I_ overheard today," he said.

Bella blushed and hid her face in her hands. She'd heard it, too. I rested a hand on her back and leaned in. She muttered something I couldn't hear, which worried me.

"What?"

"I said, 'we were _not_ having sex in the parking lot!'" Her voice was loud. Several people at nearby tables looked up. I gave them a death stare, and they turned away. Bella slouched down, her head bowed and cupped in her hands.

"You shouldn't do that," I whispered into her ear.

"Because it means I care?" she sniffed. It was true but not what I'd meant.

"Because I can see down your shirt," I said quietly.

She hit me. I laughed at the furious blush on her cheeks.

"Or you could ignore me."

"Don't I always?" She looked up. Our eyes found each other. Her lips twitched into a small smile, which had me grinning in turn. I draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her in tight._ Situation contained._

"We'll be alright. This is going to die down in a week." _Maybe_. It could actually get worse. Rumors traveled fast in small communities. It was some form of inbred telepathy.

"Look at you being all protective," she teased.

"That obvious?"

"Like a polar bear on Main Street," she said.

I shook my head, amused. _Where did she and her dad come up with these analogies?_ It was the most bizarre and endearing trait I'd ever seen before, and neither of them noticed it. Their relationship was so genuine it was invisible.

Edward cleared his throat softly. Bella and I snapped upright in an instant, our bubble broken. The noise and smells and bright lights of the cafeteria returned. We were not alone, even if the polarized energy crackling between us gave the illusion.

My throat was dry. I swallowed, trying to force the saliva back. "My bad."

One side of Edward's mouth lifted into a smile as he said something so typical I should've seen it coming. "I didn't say anything."

He didn't have to. Even one look could say a thousand words. A thousand of his looks filled enough pages to make a novel in my mind.

Bella spoke, her voice hesitant in our new social dynamic. "So… what can I expect tomorrow at game night?"

Alice's soprano voice immediately took on a dreamy tone. "Pictionary, Careers…"

"Operation, Trivial Pursuit, Texas Hold 'em," continued Edward, counting off on his fingers.

I nodded impressively when she turned to me. "Then you've got cheating, double dealing and taking sides. Oh, and we play Clue, too."

"Monopoly?"

"Ahh, that would be a negative."

Bella gave me a questioning glance that I avoided by scratching my neck. She turned to Edward next, but he suddenly had to stifle a yawn. Wandering eyes found Alice. She giggled.

"That's where the cheating comes in. Jazz's a bit of a bank robber," she laughed.

Bella turned to me, her eyes full of reproach. One could only guess what her favorite board game was. I shrugged and made a mental note to talk to Esme later.

"I prefer the term _Modern Robin Hood_," I said loftily. "Real estate prices were too high. Eddie runs a racket."

"So, you're pretty good at Balderdash then?" There was laughter in her eyes. I wanted it on her lips. I bet her laughter tasted sweet - like vanilla and honey.

"You could say that." _Oh, baby, you have no idea. _She grinned, and there was seduction in her smile. My heart skipped two beats.

I didn't know whether it was intentional, but she was driving me crazy. Her voice, her eyes… her smile. It pushed me toward the brink of reason. Anyone else would think crazy was a good thing. Crazy would be a fucking _great_ thing to most guys because that's right where the impulse led. But I was Jasper, and I was already crazy, and I knew the impulse led right into the gray area I didn't control.

Between classes I fetched a granola bar from my locker and ducked outside for a nicotine fix. The sky was holding off the rain, but the air was thick with humidity beneath the overhang. I stepped out toward the lush greenery beyond, and my foot came down wrong. I heard plastic crack under my weight.

My hands shook as I picked it up. The cigarette smoldered, forgotten, between my lips as I studied the syringe cap. It must've washed over with the last rain, following the rivulets toward this door. My door. _Me._

It was like being woken from a good dream by a slap in the face and a bucket of ice water. My insides went numb. I felt lightheaded. Staring into the gray area had a way of doing that to me. I just got confused in the fog and lost my balance; one little push and I would fall again. Tripping was the easiest thing in the world when you couldn't tell up from wrong and left from right.

The tardy bell rang somewhere behind me, clearing the fog. My cigarette was gone, burnt to the filter. I slid the cap into my pocket and walked to class. The door was locked. It was a movie day. _Shit. _

I knocked.

Mr. Banner answered thirty seconds later. "Glad you could join us today, Mr. Hale." His voice was laced with sarcasm. "What kept you so long?"

I squeezed past him. "I was throwing up in the bathroom," I said, my eyes on Jessica as she squirmed in her seat. "I think I'm bulimic or something."

I handed Bella the crinkle wrapped food. She smiled in the lowlight and had the decency not to ask me what was wrong. Our hands met under cover of darkness as the blue screen flickered. I never wanted to let go of my life raft.

* * *

Andalano had a new homework assignment for me. It was Friday and I hadn't even finished the first questionnaire. He handed me three more papers not too unlike the first. Bleached paper, Times New Roman, equal spacing. The similarities ended there, however, because this was a form. I protested.

"I didn't think you were going to finish the first one any time soon," he said breezily, "so I figured I'd give you something else to ponder."

"And you thought I gave a shit about pondering-" I paused to read the page header "- 'My Life after High School'?"

"No, but I thought you _ought_ to."

"Did Carlisle put you up to this?" It was something he would do. He was always dancing around the fact that I had to grow up some day because he was afraid to say it to my face. I always blew up, leaving him to clean the shrapnel out of anyone who might've been nearby at the time. Having someone else ask for him was both ingenious and subtle; it was just up his alley.

"Yes. It's confidential once you say or write anything, though. He can't read it," Andalano responded.

It was bullshit, either way. I wasn't going to fill out worksheets on what I planned to do with my life after high school. There probably wasn't going to _be_ an after high school for me anyway. I would remain stuck in a cycle of boredom, ignoring the irrelevant curriculum until I died from emphysema.

This conversation needed to go downhill. Staying here wasn't an option. It was as pointless as running a treadmill: great for exercise but it gets you nowhere.

"I've been thinking," I said.

"What a refreshing change," he quipped. "What about?"

"Fate." I fumbled in my pocket and retrieved the cap. Without looking, I tossed it to him. He caught it with a deft movement and held it up. After a quick study he placed it beside his lamp and waved at me to speak.

I explained my experience that afternoon. When I finished, he just motioned for me to continue. My mind reached empty canvas. There was nowhere else to go but my question.

"Is that what fate feels like?"

He looked contemplative. "Do you believe in fate?"

"No," I responded quickly. The idea that everything is predetermined was both stupid and disheartening.

"Yet you don't always believe in freewill, either."

I maintained stony silence. Freewill was not always reliable. One couldn't hold their breath indefinitely or stop a nerve impulse once it started. Everyone knew that. Biology overrode reason and rewrote the outcome. Thinking about it made me want to throw a tantrum and break expensive things.

I changed the topic again. "Number four: I think I'm protective," I announced.

He didn't seem surprise that I changed the topic. It happened a lot. He leaned back in his chair, which creaked softly beneath his frame, and folded his hands.

"But what are my motives?" I asked. "Do I do it for myself? Is it egoism?" I rambled on for thirteen minutes, my mind spinning as I reasoned myself in circles and grew more irritated by the syllable.

"Jasper," he said, stopping me short, "time's up. I expect you're excited for the weekend; I wouldn't want to keep you waiting."

I looked around, gathering my senses. I hadn't figured anything out yet. My brain couldn't take any more wavering logic. It made sense every way I answered the question, and _that_ didn't make sense.

"I'm having a real crisis here, and you're kicking me out so you can grill on the back patio?" I demanded.

He nodded. "That about sums it up. It's a nice day out."

"I'm being serious!" I shouted.

He shrugged. "Me too. Listen, you're a smart kid, but if you're worried that helping someone out of a tough spot is manipulative, we might need to get your IQ tested. Most kids your age are stressed about paying for college or getting a job."

"But-"

"It wouldn't be protection if you were planning to hurt them, would it?"

I shook my head. That would be the antithesis of help. _Why couldn't he have told me so twenty minutes ago?_ A growl caught under my breath.

He smiled at my frustration. "Don't break my lamp or knock over the ficus on your way out. I'll see you Monday."

* * *

I can't quite say I slept Friday night because my nightmares kept waking me with the grim reality that I was, in fact, responsible for my actions. I saw blood. I saw bodies. I saw monsters. I saw _me_, and it was terrifying.

I jolted from sleep in an eruption of blankets and limbs, my mind jumbled. The familiar scent of my room came to me slowly and then, by increments, my reason returned. I flopped face first into my mattress and laid there trying to remember details. I never wanted details unless they were fading on the periphery of my mind.

Analysis followed once details failed. It wasn't my jaw that was sore. From my limbs, which were on pins and needles, to the stiff muscles in my back, I was cramped. I was one giant Charlie horse, and I had an overwhelming urge to move.

I heaved myself out of bed and fell flat on my ass. From this new vantage point the bed loomed. I remembered a time when it had been a sanctuary. Now, I didn't so much mind the floor.

My forehead was slick with cold sweat. I brushed it away with the back of my arm in a stuporous, drunken motion. As my heartbeat slowed, the urge to run made less and less sense. I stood, brushed off my sweaty palms, and changed. The impulse was endless, but if I had to obey it, by God I'd scare it back to where it belonged. I would tire it into submission and beat it until it left me alone. I would stomp it into dust with every footstep until there was peace, solitude or nothing.

It was still early enough for gray daylight and cool air. I took a moment to breathe it in deeply, filling my lungs with the sweet air of dawn, and barely heard Edward approach. He moved lightly with the wind at his feet and gave me a once-over.

"Going somewhere?"

"As far as it takes," I said, tying my hair back. I breathed deep and cracked my neck while he limbered up. Neither of us spoke.

We ran. Our strides matched, though not by nature. He ran a length ahead of me, his conditioned legs keeping my slower pace. His route took us north, away from town and along a road that was bordered by wilderness rather than houses. Tall reeds whipped in the breeze, but I saw no cars.

The burn built in my lungs first, determined to defeat me. My legs ached with each step, and it became a conscious effort to continue. My side cramped, but my footsteps didn't falter with the screaming impulse to give up.

_Fuck the impulse,_ I thought. _Fuck the urge, fuck the urge, fuck the instinct. Fuck the gray area telling me what to do._

If I had to choose I would control the choice.

_Mind over matter. _

Step.

_My decision. _

Step.

_My will._

Step.

The fire ate my limbs and turned bone to marrow, but I won. Half an hour later, Edward and I rounded the bend and arrived. I sat heavily with as much dignity as I could muster, my lungs heaving for air. He stretched and bent, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. He looked at my flushed face, grinning.

"Three miles… I didn't think you had the lung capacity."

"I don't," I wheezed, my lips rising to an impossible smile through the pain. Fuck me it felt good. I liked the rush. It was no wonder Rose ran so much. I wanted more.

I staggered upstairs and collapsed on the couch while Edward headed to the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water and my pills. There were two extra. My expert knowledge of pharmaceuticals didn't fail me.

"Tylenol?"

When he realized I was a bit _too _good at copying signatures, Carlisle had taken over the medicine cabinet instead of having me arrested. Almost overnight all the pills, from Midol to baby Aspirin, disappeared. They were locked away in a spot – apparently in the kitchen – that only he had access to.

"Carlisle said you'd need it later," he said, as if that finished the topic.

I didn't want to lose my endorphin rush. I didn't want the pills, but it was too late. I'd already swallowed them.

As it turns out, my worry was unfounded. By the time Bella's truck chugged up the driveway I wished Tylenol came in stronger forms. _Like Lyrica. Or Percocet. _ I thumped downstairs, wincing with every step, and greeted her at the door with a smile and a kiss before she had time knock.

I had to admire the absolute lack of cleavage she was sporting after our conversation the day before – even if my imagination had more fun than my eyes. My gaze studied her khaki shorts and bare legs before climbing back to her warm brown eyes. It was funny because, though I'd seen her every day this week - whether in the music room while I played or lounging on the couch at her house in front of the television- I was never gladder to see her than now.

"Are you going to let me in?" she teased. I was gawking in the doorway like a kid in the toy department.

"Wasn't planning to, no," I murmured, and it wasn't a lie. I wanted her alone, outside and in private. I _also_ wanted to punch myself for thinking that. I opened the door for her.

Bella breezed past me blushing. She led the way upstairs to the dinner table where Alice and Carlisle had just finished putting out the dishes. Esme had made Italian and, as a little tribute to Bella, bought a single pork chop for her plate. I had to smile at their effort, but there was no doubt that Bella would be sheepish when she noticed and then guilty if she didn't eat enough.

She was greeted with hugs and kisses before Esme showed her to her seat at the table. It was next to mine, which was now adjacent to the head of the table. The seating arrangement had switched on Monday. As much as they pretended it was because of Bella's presence, Alice stayed at Edward's left from then on and Carlisle fixed my plate for me at every meal. I didn't like the unfamiliarity, and I was as suspicious of his motives as I was his hawk like eyes watching me eat.

Dinner was cheery. Everyone wanted to talk more than eat. I was aggravated that I couldn't avoid Carlisle's attention despite how preoccupied he pretended to be. Just one look had me choking down another bite of food in silent suffering. It's not that the food was bad – Esme cooked the best food I could remembered ever eating – but that my brain was disconnected from my stomach. It was a rare feat for me to have an appetite or eat without coercion.

I offered to do the dishes, which earned me a look of concealed surprise from Esme. Bella, always the little altruist, was quick to jump to my aid. They let us go with a smile, and we carried the plates and glasses to the sink in two precarious stacks. The others brought out the board games, their excitement palpable. We were officially the dorkiest family on the planet.

True to character, Bella felt guilty for eating meat in a house full of vegetarians. She didn't need words to explain the creased forehead or pensive stare. I knew. In thirty seconds she would sigh softly, not really expecting a reaction, and I would give her one anyway.

She sighed.

I kissed her chastely, but it didn't stop a shiver from running up my spine. I stepped back and watched her eyes flutter open with a little grin. It was the salt and seasonings on her lips that did it.

"You taste like pork," I said. Before she could protest, I picked up her hand and licked the flavor from each of her fingertips. "Yep," I confirmed. "Definitely pork."

She squealed as if I'd slapped her in the face with a worm. "What was that for?"

I smiled broadly. "You have great taste, you know."

She gave me a look of great consternation and turned away to hide the smile creeping up her rosy cheeks. We filled the dishwasher, though it would probably need to be reorganized when Esme noticed that I had no idea what I was doing. I hummed a tune that I had been practicing last week. Bella's foot tapped along, supplying an offbeat rhythm.

"Why are you even a vegetarian?" she asked after several minutes. I could've seen the question coming.

"Carlisle worries about triglycerides," I said, shaking my head, "and Esme and Alice love animals. Edward's just used to it by now, and I go with it because I don't like creating waves."

Bella looked up at me with a sly smile. "You _love _waves."

She'd seen through my lie. I shrugged, not bothering to explain that I didn't like to see either of them upset over something like a slab of red meat. Apparently, explanations weren't necessary.

"You're so sweet," she said with a little sigh.

"And to think, this whole time I thought I was practical," I said dryly, avoiding the elbow she threw my way before it could jab my side.

Carlisle knocked on the doorway, giving us an unnecessary amount of time to make ourselves presentable before he turned the corner. Bella washed her hands and turned and leaned against the counter. If he was surprised that we were actually doing dishes, he didn't show it.

"You guys ready? Bella, we need to know whether you want the thimble or the horse." He waited while her face lit up and she turned to me with wide eyes. I nodded, my shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"Horse," she said quickly, whipping back around to face Carlisle.

He smiled. "And, Jasper, remember our agreement."

I saluted. He rolled his eyes at me but I'd be damned if the exasperation was real. Neither of us believed I'd talked him into this. Bella and I followed him back to the table, where her unspoken queries about my agreement were answered by the seating arrangement.

"I have to sit far away from Edward and the money," I said pleasantly, holding out a chair for her. "Money gets me all worked up."

She snorted.

"It's like talking politics," I said over her laughter. "It puts a fire in your belly."

Thirty minutes later Bella got to see how not joking I was when I chucked the die at Edward's head. He caught it an inch before impact, of course, and held out his hand for the money I didn't have. I glared across the table at him, tempted to throw his hotels, too.

"It's not _my _fault you gave your properties away," he said, raking in the pathetic pile of money I threw his way.

It wasn't his fault. I was aware of the fact, but it didn't stop me from being pissed. Alice asked for a red card in exchange for her orange card and several hundred dollars, which hadn't seemed so bad. But then Bella traded me red for two light blues and a utility. Bella traded the red for a green, and then both she and Edward had monopolies. Alice had solid footing. I was left with debt. It was my fault, really.

"See, Bella, you've got to realize that he's not bad with money so much as he's just a romantic sucker."

He wasn't fast enough to dodge the other die that I winged at him. It bounced off his head and clattered across the table into Alice's lap. Bella jumped. I raised my hands in surrender before Carlisle could intervene.

"I forfeit," I said and tossed him my playing piece. Bella looked at me as if expecting another outburst, but my temper had settled from rage to complacency. I shrugged, crossed my arms and leaned back to await the final outcome. It was just game night at the Cullen house, and _this_ was why we didn't play Monopoly.

* * *

**_E/N: Jasper talks a lot about "the gray area," "shades of gray" and being "lost in a fog" throughout this story. These are all references to the point when his conscious brain takes the backseat to impulse. He feels like, at these times, he literally has no say over his own body. It scares him._**

**_Chapter 11 of "This Infatuation," a 3rd person story from Bella's (and a splash of Edward's) perspective, is up! I'm slowly working on Chapter 12._**


	53. Stress and Euphemisms

**It looks like I'm going to be busy for the next few weeks. I've already exhausted my supply of prewritten chapters, so updates are about to get choppy. As in, 2-3 weeks choppy. And, while the chapter is much shorter than anticipated, it's necessary. Enjoy!**

* * *

Intox 53

Routines are easy. There is certainty in routine, a kind of safety net for when the rest of your life falls to shit. There is a false promise there - a believable one - that your routine is your safeguard. It is a refuge from the unknown. It is a haven from the storm. It is the easy, well-trodden path that does not run through mires or falter in the darkness.

Bella and I had a routine that had formed the cornerstone of our relationship since our first kiss. We quibbled over little things and, when push came to shove, she was always right. I overreacted. She pulled away. I pushed too hard. Our conversations strained. We fought. For twenty minutes it was the Cold War again, and then the issue was resolved. Done. Over. I kissed, she forgave, and we made up.

We worked well together. It was comfortable. Our habit of misunderstanding each other stretched back to the first time we met. I was fond of that history, the months we'd spent in denial, not realizing that we were on the same page. It made every moment dearer. It made her precious, a gemstone. She was the diamond. I was the rough. Our volatile differences came with the territory.

* * *

Chief Swan gave me the stink eye when he answered the door Monday and then disappeared upstairs – probably to get his gun. I turned left and found Bella in the kitchen fussing over breakfast. I kissed the corner of her mouth and took up perch on a clear section of countertop.

"I guess he heard the good news," I said.

She nodded. "Yesterday."

I ran a hand through my hair, once again reminded of how I'd turned her entire life to shit. There were other ways to handle the situation Thursday; I couldn't actually see any of them, but I knew they existed. It vexed me.

"I'm sorry, babe," I groaned.

"Keep apologizing. After _twenty_ times I might just believe you," she said, scrunching her nose into an ornery grin, "_babe._"

I smiled. "I like the sound of that."

The smile quickly faded as her dad rounded the corner and eyeballed me. I hopped off the counter and took my seat with resignation. It was directly in his line of sight, a dangerous place to be today. Bella sat a mug of coffee next to me forcibly with a stubborn glare at her dad. I looked between them with a gulp.

They ate while the food on my plate grew cold. Bella nudged me under the table at least three times, but, even though I was holding the fork, I couldn't lift it. I couldn't smell the herbs. I couldn't see the scrambled eggs and toast. I was too busy watching myself in third person.

When Bella removed my untouched plate and stood to do dishes, the loose circuitry connected. I flashed back behind my eyes with a shake and looked up. Chief Swan was studying me, the lines on his face pronounced. He watched my fear bubble to the surface.

"It's not true," I said quietly, "whatever you heard."

He raised a wooly eyebrow. If my heart hadn't been beating its way up my throat, I might've smiled. Instead, I shook my head.

"I might've said something to Jessica that pissed her off," I said carefully. It was true. It _might_ have angered her – or she might have been ecstatic that I finally taken notice.

My fingers tapped guitar chords on the wooden table as I waited for him to say something, but he was silent and Bella across the room. He grunted into his coffee, skeptical. My fingers missed a beat. Every muscle in my body stopped at once, caught in the tension. I pushed my chair back and headed for the front door.

Bella came after me after five minutes. She leaned against the railing and watched me smoke. I knocked my shoes together, trying to regain the tempo of the song as the smoke clouded above me.

"What's wrong?"

"I feel weird," I said, shrugging. The truth was that I wanted her like I'd never wanted anything before, but I couldn't have her – but everyone had already jumped to conclusions so what was the point in being reasonable? And what was reasonable in this situation? And when would my head stop spinning like a top?

"No shit." She squatted on her hams and felt my forehead. I slapped her hand away. Her eyes narrowed. She stood and folded her arms.

"Are you going talk to me?" she asked.

"No," I said decidedly, exhaling a cloud of acrid smoke. I couldn't look at her. The paint on the floorboards had cracked into an interesting pattern. An ant crawled through a crack, its antennae quivering.

"God, you're so grumplicated!" she growled.

Whatever the hell _that _meant. I squashed the ant. "Deal with it."

"I do," she snapped.

The door shut heavily, leaving me in silence. I hated that sound. It was all too much. The _thunk_ of my shoes was too loud. My cigarette crackled as it burnt to ashes. I could hear the cough building in my lungs.

Bella walked past me with our backpacks. She threw them into the back of her truck and got into the cab. She rolled down the window and leaned out.

"I'm leaving now," she announced loudly.

I scrambled to my feet and hopped into the passenger's seat by the time she'd gotten to the stop sign. I slammed the door and fumbled for my seatbelt. She had the decency to keep her foot on the brake while I caught my breath.

"Damn it, Bella." My voice inflected up and trailed off in warning. I nearly choked on the dialect that slipped through.

"I wasn't going to leave you." She flicked on the turn signal and nearly popped the clutch as the car jerked into motion. Instinctively, I braced myself against the dashboard. She eased up on the gas.

"God forbid people get any ideas." I rolled my eyes and propped my feet up on her dash.

"Are you going to tell me what your problem is?"

"Your dad hates me," I grumbled. _With good reason._

"Of _course_ he does," she huffed. "The whole town knows you were groping me in the parking lot."

I dropped back in the seat and put my hands over my face. I wanted to whimper. It was true, of course. A cop had the instinct to weed out bullshit. Her dad knew that all rumors sprang from truth. I was such a monster.

"It won't happen again, Bella. I promise."

"Where have I heard that one before?" she said without looking at me.

I groaned and rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. She was right. I made that promise every time I fucked up. _What was wrong with me?_

"I'm serious, babe."

"What, you want to walk around holding hands now?" Brown eyes peeked at me through a haze of thick lashes as we turned into the lot.

"Fuck that," I said. It didn't seem appropriate.

The truck stopped. Bella flipped off the ignition and smiled at my grimace. She wanted to know what I actually meant. I waved and gestured trying to explain. We debated on our public image, trying to find something that worked, before she made an executive decision that we should be ourselves. You'd think we were a miniature PR firm in a tiny orange office.

When we finally got out of the truck, I was the first one out. I hopped over the hood of the truck and opened her door. She stepped down and patted the bulky truck affectionately, waiting for me while I fetched our bags.

"You better not have hurt my truck, Hale."

"No, ma'am," I drawled.

"Have I ever told you that you're adorable when you're being so _you_?" We ignored the halls lined with gawkers and rubberneckers, insulated in a bubble of our creating. It was convenient.

I slung an arm over her shoulder and smirked. "Not as much as you should."

She chuckled and then, for good measure, elbowed me in the ribs. The impact was laughable.

It was like bumping into a stuffed animal. I feigned pain to satisfy her bloodlust, but she saw through it.

"You're such a faker," she cried.

"Men can't fake it, honey," I said quietly as we stopped at her classroom. Her eyes widened faster than the inevitable blush could bloom on her face. I maintained a serious expression; dissolving into snickers would ruin the joke.

She seemed frozen in spot. I kissed her knuckles with a gentlemanly bow, and the roses on her cheeks blossomed. I smiled and pushed her toward the door. She could beat me up all she wanted at lunch, but right now we both had classes to get to.

* * *

Bella came in late but sat with us automatically at lunch as if she'd never sat elsewhere. I looked up from my homework with a grin as she scooted her chair closer toward me. She smiled slowly, seemingly intent on drawing out my breath and leaving me in limbo. It was difficult to breathe when she smiled like that.

While she talked to my siblings, I picked at her fries and read over the Latin translation due as our final exam in four weeks. We'd received advance copies a week ago so there would be enough time to complete the project. My brain sizzled over the words. It was hard to see through all the smoke. I watched myself watch the paper, and gradually the colors faded from the world. Four weeks wasn't enough time.

I was losing focus. After the movie finished in Biology, Mr. Banner quizzed us over the content. I didn't hear him the first time he asked me. The rhythm in my head was too loud. Bella nudged me back to awareness with a questioning look, and I passed the question off to her when he repeated himself. I couldn't remember the movie.

She already knew I was spacey, and I almost preferred that to what she'd think if she could see inside my head. My mind was a cacophony of noise; it was fifty songs outperforming each other all at once and trying to push me out. It was a jumble of audible chaos expanding to the far reaches of my consciousness. There wasn't room for me inside my skull.

For the rest of the day, I avoided Bella like jury duty. It was a difficult task because we were magnetic. I could sense her approach a minute before she turned the corner and, if luck would have it, she would notice that I skipped class and come find me. I knew the first place she would look was my abandoned hallway. I didn't understand why I told her about it when I liked my alone time.

I'd never felt more sober in my life but, ironically, if I went near her, she would think I was high. I couldn't think straight, which was a sure sign of trouble. By the time I slid into Carlisle's sedan I could hardly walk straight. Someone else might consider that funny.

Carlisle accepted my silence in response to his conversation during the drive. The noise was eating me alive, shredding down my skin and sinew so that the nerves lay exposed against sun-bleached bones. My guts twisted, fighting the corrosion. My heart beat like a broken metronome, keeping tune to a song I would never play properly. I felt lightheaded. Air wasn't hitting my evaporating bloodstream fast enough. I couldn't breathe.

The gentle touch of a hand on my shoulder seared through my nerves. I flinched into the door, nearly panicking when the shoulder strap restrained me. Carlisle caught my shoulder and pressed me back with a hand me against my chest before I could struggle my way out of the metal coffin. The doctor in him was unflappable, a pool of unreserved calm contained in blue eyes. I counted the fingers he held up for me until my lungs flexed in sync with his pattern. _One, pause, two, pause, three, one..._

I coughed out a lungful of stale air and blinked furiously. Daylight had never been so blinding. Rustling fabrics had never sounded so deafening. I sat immobilized while he unclipped my seatbelt.

"How are you feeling?"

_Like shit, thanks for noticing_. I felt like a frayed rope twisting in the breeze, an unraveling strand of yarn that would soon be nothing. I felt anxious. I felt overheated. I felt confused at where the fuck that had just come from. I hadn't seen it until impact.

_Please let me go home. Please, for the love of God, don't make me go in there. Don't make me talk. It hurts my head. Please... please._

"Fine," I answered with an unconvincing attempt to shrug off his concern. "I'm fine, totally fine."

He took me at my word and made me go to my appointment. Shit, he even walked me in and shook hands with the doctor. They talked, I sat, and then Carlisle left. Andalano immediately plopped down into his chair and looked me over.

"You don't look good."

"How perceptive," I sniffed. "It's good to know you don't get paid for looking pretty."

"Maybe you're not as sick as I thought," he chortled. "You going to tell me what's on your mind?"

My fingers tapped. "No."

We sat in silence, combating by eye contact rather than swords. His steady gaze was unnerving, and I didn't have the capacity to stare him down. I looked away.

"C'mon," he coaxed, "I know you've got something rattling away up there. Most people do at times."

I rubbed my eyes. I had nothing to complain about except things that happened to everyone all the time. What was I going to do, bitch and moan about how well my life was going? That I was weak? That I felt what a billion other people on the planet felt daily, and I couldn't deal with it?

"It's nothing," I murmured.

"I know that it's nothing," he said, "but with you it's everything. You're bottling it up; just tell me before the lid blows."

"You don't-"

"-know anything about you?" he said, finishing my sentence. "I know enough to know that you aren't "fine" - unless you use the word as an acronym."

My face soured. I knew what he was talking about. Anyone would after hearing it so many times, and I didn't need for him to spell him out.

"It's nothing I can't deal with," I amended dismissively. Jasper Hale didn't get stressed. He got angry, he got high, but never stressed. Avoiding the uncomfortable was his job; he walked at the edge of recklessness and insanity. He was good at what he did.

"You're not a persona. You're a person, and people need a break sometimes. People get stressed and anxious and worn out to the point that they just need a break, so maybe for today you stop being Jasper Hale and just be yourself."

I swallowed, and the sensation hit me. _Hard_. My lungs, though filled to capacity, felt empty. The room shifted, but I stayed rooted in place. Pain constricted my chest. I gasped in a deep breath and fought panic for control over my racing pulse. _Holy fuck._ I was having a heart attack.

Andalano crossed the distance between us in an instant. One blink and he was kneeling in front of me speaking with the ease of a professional bullshitter. Doom stretched across the horizon of my mind, an infinite failure, and he was telling me to talk back. I grabbed his arm in a vice grip.

_Carlisle. I want Carlisle!_ I couldn't breathe. No-care-ever, self-repressing Jasper had blinked out of existence at the hint of discomfort. What a bastard. I shook my head, but it only made the dizziness worse.

"Talk it out," he said, nodding encouragingly. "Speak, ramble, and acknowledge it."

_I can't,_ I screamed at him silently. My throat was too tight, but my glare made up for it. His assured response made me question my sanity.

"Yes, you can." He hardly cringed when my grip tightened.

I implored him with watering eyes. _I can't, I can't talk, I can't get better – can't love – can't think – can't _do _without fucking it all up._

He held up his fingers, and I nodded. Together, we counted out the sequence one breath at a time. My lungs moved mechanically, so I knew I was breathing, but the air dissolved before entering my bloodstream. It hurt. I punctuated each pause to fill the void.

One…

_What was there to say? _

Two…

_Someone had heaped ten courses of "too much" on my plate. I had an appetite but no silverware; I was unprepared._

Three…

_For the first time in years I wanted to succeed, and I knew I wouldn't. I wanted things I couldn't have and didn't deserve to anyway. It was a sickening, poisonous knowledge that was corroding me from the inside out. _

One…

_I was overwhelmed by myself. It was like-_

Two…

_-realizing upon approach that the mole hill is actually a mountain. And you were the one that built it._

Three.

_What the fuck was so mysterious about that?_

My grip on the doctor loosened as the panic subsided. I closed my eyes, taking small sips of air, as he got to his feet and called Carlisle back in. I wanted to adopt a cavalier attitude, to shrug and ignore what had felt like an eternity but been, in actuality, five minutes. My body and brain felt as if I had run a marathon while taking the SAT, though. I rested my head in trembling hands and waited.

Carlisle felt my clammy forehead and checked me over quickly before turning, his hand resting on my shoulder. I felt like a bookend; they talked about me as if I weren't in the room, quizzing each other back and forth about my behavior and medication.

"Has he been taking his medicine regularly?" the shrink asked.

I nodded wearily as Carlisle confirmed, ruling out withdrawal. I knew better than to be _that_ stupid. Not taking antipsychotics could be a bitch and a half.

"It's not the meds," I murmured. "It's _me._"

No one heard me. They slid into medical jargon, suddenly discussing milligrams and chemicals so fast that even my translation couldn't keep up. When they started talking side effects and interactions, I got suspicious. Once my brain caught up, I got pissed.

"No. No, no, no, _no_," I said, shaking my head vigorously. "Fuck _no._" I looked between them in disbelief. They wanted to fiddle with my pills, and I took that very seriously. I wanted my pills. I liked my pills. I _needed_ my pills.

"Jasper-"

I stood quickly to confront him. "Carlisle, I'm an adult. I've got a say, and I say _don't fuck with my prescription_!"

My knees shook. I grabbed the desk and stood my ground against their illogic. If you took Moody Jasper and added pills you arrived at Contented Jasper, who was a cooperative and polite and Better Jasper in disguise. It was all on account of chemistry that I was even functioning like a semi-normal human being. _How could they not see that?_

Carlisle looked ready to fight, but Andalano waved him to a seat. I returned to my seat, too, and listened – mostly – as we all discussed my panic attacks. Carlisle stayed quiet while Andalano coached me on breathing techniques, which were similar to the ones I never used for my temper. The good doctor asked us about the frequency of the attacks. I answered properly; I'd had two… _today_. Carlisle's answer, however, was off by at least ten.

I'd had enough of wasted time. I needed to study, to translate, to practice, to read and to sleep all at once. _God, how did people do it?_ I excused myself from their social mixer so they could talk properly about me behind my back and walked outside. The sky hung thick with gray clouds, and I frowned at the late hour.

My fingers dialed without looking and, as predicted, Bella answered enthusiastically. I didn't want to do this, but I was a terrible multi-tasker with too many tasks to handle. Bella made my head spin, and that was the problem. I didn't need any more spinning today.

I took a deep breath and spit it out all at once. "Hey, babe, I'm not feeling so hot. I think I'm just going to go to bed."

"Are you okay?" Her chipper tone changed instantly. My lips twitched at her concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, brushing off her concern.

She snorted in disbelief and responded in an equally careless attitude. I saw through it immediately. We both did, and that's why we worked together.

"Well _that's_ the ultimate euphemism," she said.

"You don't even want to know." I rubbed my eyes and groaned. "But we're back on schedule tomorrow?"

"Of course," she answered softly, as if understanding something unspoken. "See you then." She blew me a kiss, and then the line went silent.

I exhaled a deep breath. I could see straight again.

* * *

**E/N: I think this chapter was important because it's an example of so many things Jasper thinks or says that are just plain wrong. I'll leave it up to you to decide what he's wrong about, though, because I'm cruel. =p**

**See you soon (hopefully)!**

**~Mandala M.**


	54. Over the Edge

**_It's only been two and a half weeks! I feel proud of myself because I've been freelancing for a local newspaper on top of working full time. _**

**_I've had some questions about the timeline for the story, and I actually have an answer. The story is in four parts: Part I is 1-33, Part II is 33-60, and the other two aren't mapped out entirely, but I estimate 10-12 chapters each, plus an epilogue... if you haven't had enough by the end._**

**_~Mandala M._**

* * *

Intox 54

I rode home with my arms folded across my chest. My mouth was nonexistent, a mere line across the bottom of my face. Carlisle knew by my silence and screaming body language that I wasn't going to talk. He would have been an idiot to think otherwise.

We walked the stairs to the landing together, my feet heavier than Carlisle's. I ignored Alice, who had bounded downstairs to greet Bella, and brushed past her on my way to the living room where I flopped face first onto the couch, pulled a pillow over my head and didn't move until Esme shook my shoulder for dinner.

Esme and Carlisle talked quietly, their intimate voices a reprieve from the stony silence that filled the other chairs at the table. The rest of us ate silently and wished Bella was here to give us an excuse to talk to each other. Edward and Alice glanced at each other and then, almost as if reading the other's mind, at me.

My plate looked like a vegetable slaughterhouse. I picked absently at the carnage and waited for them to ask me what my problem was. My brain flipped through a catalog of things I ought to be doing instead of waiting. None of those things involved wasting time at family dinner.

"So, Jay, are you coming jogging tomorrow?"

I looked up at my brother with dead eyes. "I thought it's supposed to rain."

"That's the point of mud," he grinned, his eyes alight with enthusiasm. "You splish. You splash. You get dirty. It's more fun that way."

If by more fun he meant better rush, I was sold. My muscles had just forgiven me from the punishment I'd put them through Saturday morning. I was gung-ho and ready to conquer weakness again. Edward was a good salesman.

I shrugged and speared a carrot. "Yeah, sure. Wake me up."

* * *

Our feet pounded the soft earth. Mud, kicked up through the pre-dawn air, speckled our legs. The landscape sped past in a soft gray blur of mist and rain, a new sensation of surrealism that seemed in place with the moment. Despite the falls we'd taken because of unsure footing, it was hard not to grin as we came within sight of the house. The body was a machine, the mind it's master.

Edward was having trouble keeping the dumbshit smile off his face, too. He leaned against the wall, laughing as he caught his breath, and I sat on the concrete garage apron. He ran a dirty hand through his mop of unwieldy hair and made a futile attempt to swipe away the mud from his fall. I looked at my knees and diagnosed them bruised and dirty but not broken from my own slip.

"Bleeding?" asked Edward as I prodded my legs.

I shook my head. "You?"

"Huge fucking bruise," he chuckled, rubbing his hip.

We stripped to bare minimum in the garage before making a run for the showers. Esme knew we were tracking mud, but she didn't peek out of the kitchen in time to catch us. We were ghosts – ghosts that would have to clean up after themselves before heading to school.

The shower took longer than anticipated - I'd been caught up in a daydream of Bella that involved lots of mud and moaning - so by the time I draped a towel over my hair and padded downstairs my stomach was growling and Carlisle had long gone. In a way, I was relieved by the chance at family breakfast. I was always rushing off in the mornings, and it felt rude to ignore Esme when she tried so hard to make me comfortable in her home. She was especially busy on Tuesdays; I would have been a complete ass to brush her off today.

I swallowed my pills with a pint of water and sat down at the table. The platter of eggs and pancakes in the center of the table had been hacked at. I surveyed the scene thoroughly. Plates were absent, but evidence remained in the hot sauce and syrup stuck to the table. After a cursory glance at Esme, I pulled the serving plates to me, dumped the leftover eggs over the remaining pancakes and topped it all with syrup.

Alice made a face into her textbook. Edward rubbed his face and watched me devour the small mountain of food. I didn't know where the sudden appetite had been hiding, but I liked it. Food didn't taste like cardboard anymore. Now that it was back, I realized how much I'd missed flavor.

* * *

The cigarette between my lips flickered to life as soon as my feet hit asphalt. It had waited patiently for the drive to school, pale and unconsumed, while I tapped my fingers on the arm rest. Now, it roared to life in an orange flare of butane and smoke, the nicotine sliding into my lungs. It swam through my arteries, soothing tight muscles and healing the shattered nerves that had been preventing me from doing this a long time ago.

It was ashes by the time I reached the administrative building and opened the door. The receptionist looked up and paled when she saw me enter. She finished her phone call and turned reluctantly, her face dour. I shifted in place as she studied me.

"I need to speak with the principal," I said and scratched my shoulder.

The woman was dubious but admitted me after I insisted to the point of belligerence that it was important. She pointed me toward the door. My heartbeat picked up to a flutter. I gulped in a breath of confidence and entered quietly. Proximity was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable was threatening, and I didn't want to hurt my chances. I kept my distance.

He motioned for me to sit. I paced instead.

"Mr. Hale." His tone was dangerous.

I turned suddenly and leaned across his desk. My splayed fingers gripped the edge of his desk as I cut through the bullshit. "Let me graduate," I pleaded.

He had not expected this. Not from me. A slight widening of the eyes was the only change in his expression. It didn't take a genius to know the answer would be "no."

He pulled up my record on the monitor and read off my absences (too many), my grades (too low) and my antagonism toward the institution (too heinous). I tried to bargain – shit, I tried everything short of begging – but couldn't budge the law. Its arm was too strong.

At least he wrote me a late pass when the bell rang. I was defeated but not discouraged. If going to the top wouldn't work, I'd do the underhanded thing and win over the underlings. A couple didn't hate me, and the rest just wanted me gone. I took turns throughout the day appealing to their reason and animosity until my Latin teacher agreed to stay after school and tutor me. It was a small step, but I'd take forward progress any day.

When I leapt the steps to Bella's porch an hour later than I promised, she answered the door before I could knock. She was on the phone. I knew by the chatter on the other end that it was her mom; she always called her mom when upset. I kissed the corner of her lip and shot her a questioning look before taking up post on the arm of the couch.

They were discussing plane tickets and dates. My heart sank as it became obvious she was leaving. Though I didn't understand what I'd done wrong, I wanted to let myself out and save her the trouble of breaking the news to me. Some things I just couldn't handle being laid bare.

"Babe, we're not doing anything for Edward's birthday, are we?"

I looked up and shook my head. _What the fuck did I care about Edward?_ She was leaving me, and God knew how long I had until the loneliness came back. She could have told me, could have warned me that it was ending before it began. She made my head spin, but I needed the catharsis in my life. She was the reason for my actions, the cause to my effect. I needed her or the pressure of life would crush me. _Why would she leave?_

Bella hung up the phone and sat by me on the couch a few minutes later. After a minute she knelt on the cushions and turned to me. She had a huge grin on her face, and I just wanted to wipe it off.

"When were you going to tell me?" I demanded hoarsely.

Her eyes didn't lose their sparkle as she slid her hand into mine. "I just got the tickets tonight, silly, so… now?"

When I didn't return her grin, her features drooped. Her posture, however, refused to curl in on itself. Defying my scowl, she leaned over and tried to pry my lips into a smile, but it was no use. I was a statue.

She shook her head and started talking animatedly about home. Her eyes brightened as she spoke, and I knew she was excited to return. Who wouldn't be excited for sunshine after living in rain? If she wanted to go, I couldn't force her to stay. I knew it had to happen eventually. I just hadn't expected it to be so sudden.

"Why did you move here if you like it there so much?"

She sighed, lost in thought as she wiggled my fingers for me. "Phil was… how do you say it?"

My mind jumped to conclusions. I stiffened. "Did he hit you?"

"_No!_" Her eyes widened in surprise, horrified at my mistake_. _"It's just that, well, have you ever seen two people so wrapped up in each other that there's no room left for you?"

I nodded, remembering what it was like to be in the room with Emmett and Rosalie for too long. They weren't subtle about it, either. Their flame was a fire that scorched anyone present until they fled. If you were ignorant enough to stick around, you learned that lesson quickly.

"Phil's a nice guy, but he took over my job. He takes care of my mom now," she said, thankfully ignoring my slip of tongue. "I still like to visit a couple times a year, though. I can't _always_ live with a cloud over my head."

I didn't know whether she meant a metaphoric cloud, but my mind had just registered that she'd purchased roundtrip tickets. It was bad – but not _that_ bad. Holy shit, I was dense.

"How long?" I mumbled as I kissed her fingers. She pulled them away just enough so I had to meet her gaze. As usual, it was half obscured by hair. I brushed the offending veil back and tucked it behind her ear.

"It's just two weeks," she promised with a smile.

My head fogged when I saw her lips curve upward. She dazzled me enough to lose my footing. I staggered toward the precipice I'd been avoiding so carefully. Our kiss was so tentative that I hardly felt it. I moved away and traced my thumb across her lips and the smooth curvature of her jaw, surprised at what I'd done. It felt dangerous; it felt good.

I kissed her again, chastely, and watched her eyes flutter as she responded. Her hands rested against my chest and then hooked over my shoulders, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. I teetered on the edge, and then her tongue ran across my lips and I went over, free falling into the abyss.

We toppled over onto couch cushions with a collective gasp, and I barely caught myself. She giggled when I tried to huff an apology and pulled me closer instead. I complied willingly. My normal brain, which would scream "what the fuck are you doing," was gone, lost somewhere in the haze of the fall, the hormones and the desperate want emanating from my gut.

She propped herself up by her elbows and shook her hair out so it wouldn't get caught. My fingers gathered her hair and tied it up at the base of her neck, out of the way, without breaking away from the kiss as we edged farther onto the couch.

I reveled in the sweet taste of her tongue against mine as our kiss deepened. Her hands snared in my tousled hair and pulled me tight against her. Spread and tangled as we were, it was impossible to ignore my desire. _Merciful saints in Heaven did I need air._

I rested my forehead against hers, trying to rein myself in and gain clarity on the situation. One hand hovered over her hip, grazing the denim; she put her hand over mine and guided it onto her waist. Our breathing was shallow, ragged, as our lips met again.

I was lost in the sensation of her smooth skin. My hand ran over her curves, exulting in the simplicity of the high. It wasn't chemical, it wasn't measured, diluted or sold on the streets. It was primal. Natural. Skin. Touch. Her. Everything. Bella.

On the coffee table, my cell phone buzzed loudly and skittered across the polished surface. I groaned and fumbled for it, trying to silence it. The phone danced over the table's edge and hit the floor within arm's reach. I picked it up and read the caller ID. _Esme._

_ Fuck._

"Yullo?" I propped myself up on my elbows and tried hard not to sound completely out of breath and interrupted.

She wanted to know if I needed a ride home. _Oh, _s_weet Esme. Lovely Esme. Lovely, well-intentioned, horribly timed Esme_. I looked around for the clock but couldn't tell how late it was.

"Time?" I mouthed to Bella. She searched the room quickly for a clue. Finding nothing, she shifted her hips beneath me and wrestled for the cell phone in her pocket. The movement caught me by surprise; my breath hitched audibly, but I bit my lip to stifle a groan.

"Are you okay?" came Esme's voice over the line.

"Yeah. Touched a hot burner," I replied with a slight hiss, my eyes on Bella. Her face was flushed, and I knew she'd felt my arousal. Brown eyes danced as she held up the phone. My eyes widened.

_6.23 pm_

Holy Jesus, it was a wonder her dad hadn't walked in on us. He should have been home already. I should have left by now. Where had the time gone?

In the background, Esme was giving me advice on treating burns, and I floated back to Earth with a bird's eye view of just what I'd gotten myself into. My heart sank. I'd promised her, Ed and myself that I wouldn't do this. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucker fucking fuckity fuck. Just … _fuck_.

"Pick me up," I said, suddenly needing space, fresh air... and a cigarette. Maybe _two_ cigarettes. "I'm ready now."

Bella gaped at me in disbelief as I extracted myself and tumbled onto the floor. She sat up, re-situating her shirt, and glared. "What the hell?"

"I have to go," I said, stuffing my phone back into my pocket, quickly adjusting myself in the process.

"Are you mad at me?"

I grabbed my cigarettes from the table and tapped one into my hand before pocketing the rest inside my backpack. "No."

"At least tell me what I did wrong!" she pleaded, following me to the foyer.

"Nothing." I tugged on my shoes.

"You're angry."

"No," I said slowly, looking at her swollen lips rather than her watery eyes, "I'm not."

She squared her jaw, but her voice still wavered when she spoke. "I hate it when you lie to me."

Her words hurt. My fists clenched around the strap to my backpack. I stood and looked at the ceiling, fighting the usual, antagonistic response that accompanied that particular emotion. As usual, I lost.

"Look, I've got a thousand things to do and you aren't one of them," I said flatly.

A glance at her told me the words had come out of my mouth wrong. She slapped me across the face. I hadn't seen that coming, and she packed a punch. I staggered back a step and stared at her in surprise.

_Was I the world's biggest idiot?_ "That's not what I meant."

"Just leave," she said, pushing me toward the door. Her touch was light, but I was sensitive to it. It felt like being pushed from a moving car. I panicked.

"But I'll see you tomorrow?"

Her entire face expressed distaste. She opened the screen door for me and I backed out.

"Babe?" I was begging now.

"Jasper."

"I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head. "I didn't mean to, and - and I'm stupid enough that it happened-"

She cut off my universal apology abruptly with a "see you tomorrow" and shut the door in my face. Blood rushed in my head. My fists throbbed where my fingernails had dug in. I cursed and skulked down to the street to wait for Esme.

* * *

I did see Bella on Wednesday, though I missed breakfast and the few words we exchanged at school were tense. Eventually, consumed by the idea that her shoulder would get icier with every attempt I made, I stopped trying to talk. Self loathing affixed itself to my brain permanently. I was desperate for her to forgive me, and I threatened to get down on my knees in front of the school and beg her to come over.

"Fine," she said. It wasn't what I'd hoped for, but it would do.

By the time she actually drove over for dinner, though, I wasn't one for polite company. Somewhere in the hour I'd spent with Andalano, he had wrung my brain and left it to dry. Who the fuck was he to call me a contradiction? I wasn't a hypocrite any more than he was a real psychiatrist, the phony bastard. Even if he was a walking medical supply house, I would quit meeting with him in a second the next time he suggested that.

Alice felt my mood and made herself scarce when I entered the living room. Edward was more daring but eventually turned the news off and slunk away, unnerved by my quiet rage. The front door opened and closed, but Bella stayed with Alice and Edward. Esme peeked her head through the door twice to make sure I hadn't disappeared - I had a habit of doing that - but didn't approach.

They ended up keeping Bella's company over dinner while I glowered at my plate. The more I noticed the wicked bender of a mood I was in, the angrier I felt. It was unreasonable to be this upset. I'd fucked everything up to this point with my various transgressions, and I didn't understand why or where they'd come from so suddenly. It had been a tornado in my gut... so natural, so quick to feel this way. It was my fault.

If that wasn't enough, Bella was here, which meant she would be judging my reactions. She would notice. I needed a buffer zone, and that's where Alice came in. After dinner, I stared at her pointedly until she looked between me and Bella and got the hint. She came with us to the music room, running a continuation of dinner conversation while I ignored them.

Alice and Bella sat across the room giggling and talking about clothes while I repeated the same two chords like a skipping CD. Their voices were low, but I could still make out a bit of the conversation. I didn't like that Alice was browbeating my Bella into shopping with her. The results would be disastrous if she got her way. There was a good chance I would not recognize my girlfriend, and if not, I would be angrier than I was right now.

My trance released with the twang of a sour note as one of my strings broke. I'd missed the chord, broken the music, halted the song. My muscles were so tense that my brain actually had its own pulse. I glared at the two of them, blaming them for my error. Bella glanced at me, her words dying on her lips as she saw my expression. She actually looked sheepish. Alice turned, too; her face lost all trace of mirth under my stormy expression.

"Could you put a lid on the chatter box?" I snapped.

Alice winced and tugged on Bella's arm. She nodded her head toward the door. The two of them shared a fucking mental moment before Bella shook her head, frowning. She turned to me, and her eyes were dangerous.

"Go scream in someone else's ear," she retorted. "We're being quiet."

My jaw clicked, a physical warning that my boiling point was rapidly approaching. I placed my guitar down reverently and took a deep breath. When I spoke, none of my efforts made it through the chill in my voice. "Get the fuck out."

Alice scrambled to her feet and pulled her partner with her. She knew what happened when I was pissed. Bella didn't. Bella couldn't read me and react properly like Alice. She was indignant when she should have been relieved.

"You invited me," she said, still resisting.

"And now I'm telling you to leave," I snarled through gritted teeth.

The surprise of my reaction knocked her off balance enough that Alice pulled her through the door in a quick motion. I expected enough of a reprieve from the noise to calm myself, but I'd barely begun to restring my guitar before the door opened again and Bella stalked over.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded.

I looked up into her dangerous eyes and understood immediately that I'd lose this fight on the ground. She'd probably stomp on my kneecaps. I stood, towering over her to gain leverage in a one-sided argument.

"I have a headache," I snapped back. "It hurts."

"Bullshit. What's your problem?" She tried to jab me, but we were too close.

"Right now, it's you," I said bitterly. It was her. It's always fucking _her_. "You're too stupid to know what's good for you."

"You mean, to do what you say?" laughed Bella. "So I guess Alice is your A-plus student?"

_ Ouch_. "Fuck you."

"In my dreams," she retorted, blushing furiously despite herself. I was stunned into silence.

I'd never thought about it, never considered the fact that my angel-eyed Bella might feel that way. I'd wrapped myself in knots worrying about how to control my impulsive, irrational, destructive self around her. I'd never even considered that I wouldn't be forcing myself on her.

The revelation wasn't as relieving as I thought it would be. It opened the door to another league that I hadn't been in since Maria. It meant pushing boundaries and explaining things, and I couldn't deal with that right now.

I shook my head and sighed heavily. "Remind me: why are we fighting?"

"Because you're being an ass," she replied dryly. My lips curled at the edges. This girl had attitude.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," I consented.

She let me wrap my arms around her and pull her against me. I kissed her forehead and rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades. She relaxed with a sigh, and only then did I dare look her in the eyes.

"I was never angry at you," I promised.

She searched my face for telltale signs of sarcasm or insincerity and found none. She pressed her cheek against my chest, and I felt her smile against me. She breathed warmth through the fabric of my shirt. We swayed in place, neither of us wanting to ruin the truce.

"Tell me about it someday," she mumbled into my chest. "Please?"

I nodded into her hair. "Forgive me," I whispered. "It was never about you."

Bella inclined her head to me, her face difficult to place. "Of course," she said, her answer a silent promise.

I kissed her, and everything disappeared until it was just us. Those two words made the world feel right to me.

* * *

**_Leave me a review, if you please. This chapter was nerve-wracking to write! ~M.M._**


	55. Origins

**Sorry for the super delay guys. I know you hate me, but I have reasons! Like moving, hurricanes, college, work, and all the associated mess. Whoo.**

* * *

Intox 55

_ She knew all my triggers without trying. It had only been a week, but she knew how to push my buttons, to set me off with a word... a phrase... a look. _

For the next two days there was a lull in the fighting as I simply enjoyed her presence and ignored my building tension headache. I touched her without fear, wondering that she didn't break as I brushed my thumb along the smile my caress induced in her. Bella wasn't made of porcelain. It would have been better to compare her to wood, strong and flexible in the worst storms.

By Thursday evening I'd come to my senses enough to realize that making myself scarce wasn't going to garner her dad's trust. If anything, it would make him want to hurt me more. My mind conjured up images of target practice – with me as the target. Or he'd push me out of a boat and hold me under with one of the oars. Charlie didn't seem a medieval torture device kind of guy.

My resolve choked on a little thing called cowardice. Bella coaxed me onto her porch like I was a stray that had been chased off one time too many. Each step weighed my feet, dragging me to a stop before she prodded me forward with her gentle palms pressed into the small of my back as if she was my shadow. Her proximity set my blood aflame, but I resisted the temptation, too fearful of the consequences if I touched back. I was a black-and-white, cause-and-effect kind of guy.

Our presentation in Biology had finally come due on Tuesday. The work had come together nicely – no thanks to me – and just needed to be put into slideshow format. I understood the concept, not the content, but had offered to do the work one day when I was feeling generous. Luckily, I had a mastermind to help. Bella promised to help me navigate the PowerPoint program once she was done whipping up dinner. I sat at the kitchen table, opened the laptop and her organized notebook, tucked my feet beneath me and began transcribing her meticulous notes. It wasn't as neat once I put myself to work, though. My fingers were clumsy on the cursor pad, and all the material was a jumble. By the time the slides were ready for formatting I knew I was doomed.

Bella had championed the project from the start. She picked the subject, drove all the way to Port Angeles to get resources, found the Seattle exhibit and written the outline. All I did was take mediocre pictures, make wiseass comments and produce a slideshow that she would redo once I was gone.

I glanced up at my girlfriend. She was stirring a pot at the stove, her hips sashaying slowly as if she had Dean Martin running through her brain. _Was she trying to seduce me?_ I bit my hand and turned away. My foot tapped. My imagination played tricks on me. More and more I caught myself stealing glances while she wasn't looking. I was reprimanding myself less and less for it, too, more enraptured than angered by the visions she put in my head. Whatever she _was_ doing, it was working.

I flexed my hands gingerly and shifted in place. This bullshit was taking too long, and I didn't have the attention span it called for. Even worse, my legs were uncomfortable, too. I stretched and let them drop to the floor without quite feeling it; they'd spent too much time contorted in the pretzel position.

When I could stand properly, I moseyed over to the stove. Bella slapped me away before I could dip a finger into the bubbling mixture, and I whirled her around to face me. She grinned up at me and did her best to look ornery, though she tripped over her feet and fell against the stove. The effect was the same, however. Her crinkled nose was the most endearing thing I'd ever seen. And the dorkiest.

I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her close before I knew my own intentions. She responded, her palms resting lightly against my chest as we stared into each other's eyes. The weight of her touch swayed my resolve. My gaze wavered south to her soft hands and then lower to my calloused fingers as they skimmed her pale skin beneath the hem of her shirt. _I wanted the shirt gone,_ I thought with a mere moment separating the rash thought from the guilt.

_She isn't an object_, I reminded myself as I looked into her brown eyes. They were so innocent. She trusted me. She shouldn't.

My kiss pressed her against the stove, but in truth it was more her pulling me in. Her body pressed tight to mine, we stumbled over each other. Neither of us was graceful. The saucepan bubbled, forgotten, on the stove as my fingers caught in her hair and held her to me. Her breasts pressed against me, and I had to wonder what I was getting myself into. _Again._

Her mouth opened to me and my moment of reflection vanished. We became a tug-of-war, Bella's arms over my shoulders, my hands cupping her ass as I held supported her, her legs wrapped around my hips. _Power. Hunger. Give. Take. Struggle. More._ It had to end, I knew, before I let myself feel like a monster again.

I broke away with a murmur neither of us understood and caught my breath. Bella was sitting on the counter's edge, her body flushed. I couldn't tell whether the heat was between us or the stove, and I didn't care to analyze. Her lips were swollen, a beautiful sight. I could never be gentle. She kissed me again, softer this time as if sensing my distance, and grazed her teeth along my bottom lip. Her kiss threatened to drown me. I put a hand out to steady myself.

The hot burner seared my fingers and jolted me from my dream. I hissed loudly, flinching backward with a curse.

"Burner again?" Bella joked.

"Bit more literal this time." I grimaced. Her eyes widened; she took my hand in hers and inspected it closely. A layer of skin smoked on the burner, the pink skin remaining was shiny and swollen. Blisters would follow quickly.

"First-aid kit. Bathroom," she ordered, her face suddenly business. She turned me about and pushed me toward the stairs. I would've thought her a little mother except she planted a kiss between my shoulder blades that sent a shiver rippling up my spine.

I sat on the edge of the tub while she doctored me up. She ran cool water over a washcloth and wrapped it around my hand. Pain throbbed through my hand, but my grimace turned into a grin when I stole another glance at Bella digging through her supply of bandages, ointments, and allergy pills.

"This shit always happens." I chuckled.

Bella turned to me armed with a dressing and a tube of burn gel. She didn't speak, but I caught her rolling her eyes as she knelt and removed the washcloth. She was smirking still. My fingers had a burn across them in the shape of the heating coils. I kissed her forehead. _Fucking burners._

The aloe salve cooled the burn and relieved some of the discomfort. When she tried to bandage me up, I shook my head and stole another kiss instead. In the distance, a car door shut. Bella hesitated, and I knew she'd heard it, too.

"If that's your dad, he'll kill me," I whispered, my forehead resting on her shoulder.

"Impossible." A shudder ran through her as my breath tickled her neck.

She kissed me, but I couldn't let it go. I leaned away. "Castrate me?"

She snorted softly, holding back a laugh, and placed a soft kiss on my jaw that set my heart racing. "Improbable."

"Arrest me?" I choked out as she bit my lip.

"Maybe," she conceded. She leaned back, giving me enough room so I wouldn't fall backwards into the tub. I took the interlude to shoo her from the room, shutting the door behind her.

It wasn't until her footsteps hit the stairs that I released the groan I'd been holding in. My dick officially hated me. Every morning I convinced myself that I could hold the oath I'd made, but then Bella showed up and my conviction failed me. Bella made me weak; it was painful, like prying your tongue loose once the frost caught it. It had been years since that hospital bed promise. I was hopelessly confused and frustrated in more ways than one. It made me ache from head to heart to groin.

I stood and watched the mirror abstractly. My reflection was filling in nicely; it might actually weigh more than my sister now. The cuts and bruises had faded. His face looked almost healthy, and his hair was tied back into a loose knot to keep out the tangles. He looked like he might smile every now and then.

I opened the medicine cabinet and poured a couple of Charlie's pills into my palm. The long nights must've been taking a toll on him; he needed to refill his prescription. I replaced the bottle, knocked back the pills and studied the apparition in the glass. His eyes were a confusing shade of blue-green, and his lips curved upward as I watched. He could smile. _That had to mean something, right?_

I padded downstairs silently and found Bella alone in the kitchen waving a towel wildly to clear the smoky air. A quick glance at the stove told me dinner had burnt up with the sauce. I took the towel from her and hung it over the fire alarm, just out of her reach. It was a bit of a stretch, but at least I didn't have to use the kitchen chair still.

"That really works?" Bell looked dubious.

I feigned affront – she should know by now that I was a master of false fixes – and surprised myself by telling her how I came about that handyman's tidbit when Ray nearly burnt down the kitchen after falling asleep with food still on the stove. Mom taught Rose and me how to keep the fire alarm silent _and_ how to use the stove; we even had a nice dinner that night. Without _him. _It wasn't a story many people knew because I never talked about home without good prodding. Not even Alice knew it.

I waited for her to comment on my story or praise me for "opening up" like people always seemed to. She didn't. Instead, she told me about her first kitchen disaster when her Renee had taught her how _not _to bake biscuits; somewhere between dough on the ceiling, broken appliances and smoke alarms, I started laughing. We traded food riddles and _Mrs. Doubtfire_ jokes while I scraped out the crusted saucepan for her.

That's how her dad found us, which put him in a much better mood than I thought possible. I didn't know what he expected to walk in on and was too busy laughing to care. The colors were soft and my head didn't hurt; Bella's humor had recharged me. And I could laugh. _That had to count for something, right?_

My medicine caught up with me over dinner. I yawned. Charlie grumbled at me for falling asleep at the table, and Bella elbowed him before assuring me that he was joking. Truth be told, I didn't even notice. I fell asleep on the couch after dinner with the TV on and her dad sitting in the arm chair.

I woke up at home on Friday morning with a foul mood and a crippling migraine. My mind drew a blank as to how I got home the night before, and I made a note to ask once I could talk without my brain hurting. My pants were dirty and I couldn't think through my wardrobe to pick a shirt. After staggering about my room drunkenly for ten minutes trying to get dressed, I stumbled downstairs in dirty pants and an undershirt.

The television was silent when I went to talk to my brother. _Curious._ I padded through the dining room to the kitchen, but no one was there. _Curiouser_. The tea kettle rattled on the range; I'd had enough of burners to toy with that one, though. I sat in the nook and rested my forehead on the table while I waited for someone to show up and give me pills.

Alice was the first one downstairs. I heard her flats scuffing down the hall and opened my eyes when she turned the corner. She gave me a smile, poured herself a mug of tea and sat down across the table. I sat up.

"Good morning." Her voice was like silver chimes.

"I hurt," I groused, resting my head in my hands. I looked at her through my fingers.

She smiled again and adjusted the collar of her lilac t-shirt. "We talked for about five minutes when you got home last night before I realized you were sleeping."

I frowned. "That makes no sense."

She shrugged. "Your head hit the pillow before I could get a word in edgewise." She stared into her mug as she drank.

I took that to mean she wasn't telling me something. It could be anything: something I'd said, done, hinted at – or it could be nothing. I _really_ didn't like that. "My head hurts," I complained.

"Edward's going to be down in a minute."

I straightened, immediately suspicious. "He slept in?"

"Ed trading sleep patterns with _you_?" Alice scoffed. "I didn't see pigs flying when I looked outside."

"Shut up." I got up and poured myself a bowl of cereal. I didn't see milk when I checked the refrigerator so I opted for a douse of water to moisten the flakes instead. I topped the mound of half-sodden cereal with honey and sat back down at the table. Alice tried not to make a face and nearly succeeded.

It took Edward twelve and a half minutes to pour himself coffee and hand out my pills. He glared at me when I asked for Tylenol, but it wasn't like I wanted him to abuse prescriptions or forge signatures. I had myself for that. I washed my pills down with a glass of orange juice, my eyes meeting his with a cool stare.

"Mom told me to drop you off at your appointment after school." Edward watched me choke on my juice. Carlisle always drove me. _Always_. His absence meant could only mean that he hadn't come home from the ER last night.

Whenever Carlisle pulled a long night he slept in his office, which wasn't saying much. The few hours of sleep he got were ruined by a cot with a mattress so uncomfortable he might as well have been sleeping on the wires. Esme brought him a change of clothes, and they shared breakfast at the hospital. Neither would be home soon, but Esme would have thought of me anyway.

I rolled my eyes at Edward. "Gee, thanks."

"I'll take that as a yes," he muttered to his toast as I stalked from the room.

I came up with an easy way to piss off Andalano that afternoon. I came in with my original questionnaire filled in with all the astute observances he'd made about me. I thought it was a great way to change the subject.

"Now you're just being difficult." He gave me a pointed look, clearly not amused at how well I could hold a grudge.

"I believe the term is 'contrary,'" I said with an innocent smile.

He didn't buy into it for a second. "You have to understand that it's not hypocrisy to say one thing and unintentionally do another. I told my wife that I'd stop by the store on my way home yesterday. I forgot. It's human nature, not a failure on your part."

His logic made sense, but the problem was that I had a hard time believing in logic these days. I wasn't even sure whether I could trust my own. _What good did logic do if you couldn't follow it?_ I picked at the armrest, frowning as I reasoned it through. _No,_ I thought, _broken promises are still broken – even if you didn't mean for it._

Dr. Andalano leaned forward until his elbows rested on the large desk. He rubbed his palms together and took a deep breath. "We're not talking abstracts here." It wasn't a question.

I nodded, watching the realization cross his face. I was well-practiced in the art of avoiding uncomfortable conversations with those I needed to have them with the most. Having stumbled upon this, he should have gloated. He didn't.

"Bella Swan," he said, folding his hands. "I don't even know where to begin with this one. Do you want to start?"

"You're the doctor."

"You brought it up," he retorted.

I sighed and began talking. It was a long story. My eyes focused on the grain of his desk while I mumbled. Halfway through, he actually leaned forward to hear because my voice was inaudible. I twisted my fingers as I explained the situation.

The thing about heroin was that it acted as a depressant. Because it slows your heart rate and respiration, certain things become less important. Like sex. Sex wasn't very important to me – back then. I spent most of my time with Maria fading in and out of semi-conscious state, too fucked up to really give a shit. There was something intangibly glorious about it, but sex came a distant second to the heroin rush.

Maria always bought the purest heroin available. She refused to settle for something that had to be injected. She called it dirty. We still ended up half-naked on the floor Pete's apartment, though, and there were worse things than black tar heroin beneath the furniture. The floor was gritty, the couches smelled like mildew and the windows were streaked. In retrospect, there wasn't much to do that could make that experience seem dirtier.

I didn't learn what happened to Rose until two days later. When I finally staggered into the waiting room, sweaty and out of breath from my sprint across town, no one noticed me. Alice had a small arm around Emmett's shoulders; his head was buried in his hands, a mountain of a man reduced to rubble. Edward stared at the white tile floor, one hand resting absently on Esme's knee as she cried silently.

The door bumped me when Carlisle entered. I turned, my stomach clenching when I saw his lab coat. My first thought was _he's a surgeon; he shouldn't be here. The ER, not here_. Carlisle looked just as surprised to see me. I hadn't been home much for weeks; only Rosalie and Alice suspected where I stayed when I disappeared like that, but neither knew for sure. His surprise hurt as much as my guilt.

"Rosie?" I said, remembering how the doctors had frowned _just like that _at my hospital bed after the car crash that killed my mother.

He started to speak, but I swayed on my feet before he could say anything. He grabbed my elbow and helped me to a seat. Everyone was looking now. I couldn't breathe. The words came out disorganized, my brain still reeling, still confused, and I dissolved into gasping sobs, my fists clutching his lab coat as he knelt in front of me.

_Not Rose, too_, I remember thinking, sure she was dead. _Not my sister._

Carlisle told me when I could listen. She had been leaving work when it happened, he said, and He followed her. I shook my head, begging him to stop; I remembered the man, had kept an eye on him for weeks and even spat in his coffee as he lurked in the back booth of the diner. He was the reason I walked my sister home. He was the reason I had promised to be there.

I knew where I had been instead. I felt it when I moved, in the soft pucker of fresh burns Maria had put on my chest and the taut skin around my scabs. I felt it in the trembling muscles, cold fever and dreamlike state of heroin, and the knowledge ate at me.

"I promised her," I told Andalano. "I promised _myself._ Over and over, I promised, until I saw her eyes open in that hospital bed, that it would _never_ happen again."

My eyes burned. I was surprised to be crying. Two months ago, I would have exploded in rage if anyone mentioned this. Now, tears leaked down my cheeks. I sniffed them back and, when that failed, wiped them away hastily. My breath was unsteady, so I stopped breathing and stiffened.

"Jasper," he said, his voice cutting through the ghastly silence that followed, "it's not your fault."

I could have screamed. A hundred people had told me that already. I knew Emmett never blamed me and that Esme had just wanted to keep me from tracking the bastard down. Not even Rose held it against me. But the blame was there every time I looked in the mirror.

No one could make me change my mind. I had free will; I could have ignored Maria when she appeared that night, but I had been too worried about the consequences. I was afraid of saying no, of being alone. And I was still afraid. How laughable.

"Jasper, look at me."

I couldn't meet his eyes, but I stared at the knot of his tie. Somewhere in the back of my mind the fog was screaming. Here in the real world there was only silence. My jaw trembled.

"I'm not saying this to make you feel better. I'm not," he said. "I'm stating fact. This is _not_ your fault."

I nodded silently and looked at my watch. Our hour had run long since run over. I shifted and glanced at the door. Edward had dropped me off but wouldn't have stayed. He didn't have a history of waiting for me. "I should go. It's late."

Andalano offered to drive me home, but I shook him off and escaped. I wanted solitude so I could understand the truth. I was a habitual liar when it served me, and the lies had been working just fine until I met Bella. Everything was all fucked up now, and I didn't understand.

The wind blew down from the mountains, cool and earthy, as I walked across the parking lot and headed home. The forest was calling; I wanted to get lost in it and forget the way out. I wanted to be trustworthy and to keep my promises. I wanted Tylenol for my headache. But, more than anything, I wanted Bella.

This rare solitude was a relief after months of smothering attention. Though it was a sure sign I was still welcome in the home, the overprotective fawning lost its appeal. I walked, kicking at gravel on the roadside, but did not go home immediately. Instead, I ambled through town… into this store, across that street, through the elementary school playground. Bella expected me to call; Edward expected me to be with her. For the first time since I returned from Port Angeles, I was truly free.

It was enough time for a head start to Olympia or Port Angeles. I still had connections – none that would work with my wallet at home, but I was charismatic, a walking customer rewards card. The yellow lines in the middle of the road were open-ended questions. It was absurd how badly I wanted to answer them.

I veered off and scrambled down an embankment along the road instead, making for the forest. The weather had been nice and the trees thirsty, so the ground was firm beneath a dense layer of ferns and moss. The aroma of earth rose thick and rich, enveloping me. Leaves and dirt and humidity swarmed my senses. I took a lusty breath and savored the exhale. _How could I leave this?_

There was no pathway, but the roots spidered out too far for the trunks to grow close. Above, the upper branches tangled and dripped with hanging moss. I took my time, but the terrain was unreliable and tall bunches of fern grew from every open surface. I stumbled. I fell, and the dirt gathered beneath my fingernails. I slipped while scaling a fallen tree and dropped, laughing, from its mammoth back.

The sun had been low in the sky when I left town, but by the time I walked through the front door it was night. I shut the door and kicked off my shoes in the foyer, but it wasn't done quiet enough. Alice and Edward were on me before I'd gotten halfway to my room. With his questions and her nagging, they were louder than a jet engine taking off next door; my headache returned with a screaming vengeance.

"Where were you?" he demanded.

I brushed passed them, and they followed on my heels as expected. "I took a walk, Ed. _Fucking hell!_" Carlisle's quiet method of inquiry was unsettling sometimes, but it never pissed me off as much as this. I was sure of it.

"You said you were going to Bella's," he countered, crossing the threshold into my room. Alice was already worrying about my ruined pants.

"You should be more careful," she murmured, fussing over the stains and rip. "These were good cargos."

"I'll buy another pair then." I jerked away and turned on my brother. "What's the big fuckin' deal with a walk, Ed? It's a walk. People go on them."

"Bella said you weren't answering your phone," Alice said quietly from behind me. "We were worried."

Her name took the fight out of me. I patted my back pocket. _Empty. _"I lost my phone," I admitted.

Alice bowled into me and pulled me into a hug despite the dirt. I wrapped my arms around her tiny shoulders with a forced chuckle, feeling guilty for my selfishness. She must've been holding herself back since I walked through the door.

"I really didn't think it was a big deal."

Somewhere, disappearing out the door, Edward mumbled, "I'll just go remind your girlfriend of that."

I rolled my eyes and dropped into a beanbag chair, but Alice watched me. Her eyes were as wide as an owl's and completely disarming. She would want an answer, but she knew better than to demand one.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Alice's approach took the pressure off; sometimes it was the only thing that could.

"I'm sick of everyone babysitting me like I'm some psychotic criminal." I clenched my fists. "I should be able to go on a walk without you calling the cops."

Alice sat but didn't join me on the floor. I wished she would. Tucked into my desk chair, her tiny frame curled around itself, she wore a frown. Sometimes she looked so sad that it physically hurt, and I wished I couldn't read her emotions so easily. I wished she couldn't read mine, either.

"I'm just bitching," I grumbled to fill the silence.

Her lips twitched. "I don't mind."

_Of course not._ She never minded. Alice was always there for me – even when I told her not to be. She always listened.

I blinked deliberately. "Keep me company. I don't want to be alone anymore." I hopped to my feet and headed downstairs without waiting for her answer. I knew it would be yes.

Alice lounged nearby reading _Vogue _while I practiced. Her silence was warmer than an empty room and a guitar, though I was doing more thinking than playing anyway. The music wasn't making me feel any better. I gave up after finger-picking through a number of songs for two hours.

I rested my guitar on my lap and ran my thumb across the strings with a sigh. "I can't do this."

Alice looked up from her magazine, saw my face, and sat up. "What's wrong?"

_Nothing. Everything._ I ran a hand through my hair. "I'm tired."

She got the hint that I wasn't just sleepy but nodded sagely and suggested I go to bed anyway. Her answer made me happy. Alice couldn't solve my problems for me; I had no idea what to do about Bella, and we both knew that cookies and milk couldn't solve my dilemma. Sleep sounded like the best option. Alice always knew my best option, so I took her advice and slept.

_ Every volcano needs time to recharge. Inactivity doesn't mean dormancy. Volcanoes can be triggered by earthquakes and other cataclysmic events – or me. We were an eruption with periods of inactivity in between. It was my fault; I started every fight. _

My skull was splitting when I woke the next morning, and I let the headache win, refusing to get out of bed even when Esme came to fetch me for breakfast. At worst, my brain might explode. At best, I'd be a foul-mouthed prick. I accepted the tea she gave me, though, and I took a sip so she would leave me alone with my book.

I was sprawled face down on my bed with a pillow over my head when Bella thumped upstairs. She opened my door timidly, saw me lying on my bedspread and tip-toed to the edge of the bed. I watched her inspect the paperback I'd abandoned on my bedside table so I could rest, my watching eyes hidden by my pillow. She turned the thin pages of the novel, dog-eared my place and replaced the book, now closed, her face reverent.

"I saw that," I mumbled, extending a hand to her.

She squeaked at my sudden movement but accepted my hand. "You were creasing the spine," she said as I pulled her down next to me.

I kissed the back of her neck through a soft layer of brown waves. Her scent stirred me. "I've done worse. Trust me."

She shuddered at the tickle of my breath and rolled to face me. "I missed you yesterday, you know."

Her eyes were impossible to deny. I swallowed hard and shifted away. "I know," I managed to say.

Frowning, Bella propped her head against her elbow and stared me down. "Are you avoiding me?"

_Yes. _ "Why would you even think that?"

"Because it's what you do." Her voice rang of defeat. "What did I do wrong?"

_You seduced me_. I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Nothing. You did nothing wrong, okay? I feel like shit, I have a headache, and I want a fucking pill to make it go away."

She sat up, rifled through her bag and tossed me a small bottle of Ibuprofen. It wasn't what I'd had in mind, but I twisted off the cap and poured myself a fistful. Bella's eyes widened when I knocked them back with cold tea. She rattled the bottle as she tucked it back into her bag, glancing at me when she heard the hollow _tick-tack_ of her supply.

"That's a lot of pills," she said as I swung my feet over the bed's edge. "Geez."

"I don't need you to be my mother today, okay?" I exhaled heavily. "Let's just finish the project before they knock me out."

"I already tweaked the slideshow," Bella said. "It looks pretty good."

I'd known this would happen since I offered to organize and format the project, but knowing and experiencing were two different types of frying oil. The work I put into the project was useless. She didn't think I knew what I was doing, and I didn't, but damnit I _wanted _to try and that should count for something! I was offended.

"Jesus, Bella, what the fuck am I going to do now, tell the teacher you did all the work while I was jerking off?"

Bella's eyes were wide. Still sitting on the edge of my bed, she clutched the comforter and laughed nervously. "I – I didn't think you would mind. It's not a big deal."

"I'm failing the goddamn class, Bella," I shouted, loud enough to drive a spike of pain through my skull. My vision blurred. My ears rang. I pressed my hands against my temples, trying to focus away the pain.

Bella's eyes were damp, but that was meaningless; I could never tell whether she was angry or upset when she cried. She waited until I could see again before speaking, and she picked her words carefully. "I didn't want you to worry about it." Her tone was defensive.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

She rubbed her forehead wearily. "Nothing," she muttered. "It means nothing."

"Bella-" I took a step forward, half-ready to apologize.

"Just forget about it, okay?" she said sharply.

I stopped short. My jaw was clenched painfully tight. I could feel the blood pulsing in my neck. "God forbid I make a point." I made the effort of rolling my eyes.

Her ringtone interrupted us. Bella reached for it quickly and flipped it open. She read the screen and slid the phone into her pocket without meeting my eyes.

"I think you've made your point," she said, standing. "When you're ready to tell me what's really going on, I'm listening."

"I'll shut up then," I promised.

We bickered all the way to the front door anyway. I couldn't keep my mouth shut to anything she said. By the time she'd bumped me aside and opened the door for Jacob, I knew she wanted to hit me. I was relieved. Anger was an emotion I understood.

They hugged before he stepped forward and shook my hand. As usual, his toothy grin creased his face with laugh lines. As he thanked me earnestly, I wondered what made him so chipper. I wanted to destroy it.

"Come over any time," I said with a little shrug, "it makes up for all the times I'm an ass."

Bella snorted. "Hardly."

Jake looked between us with a raised eyebrow. I forced a smile. "C'mon, I'll show you the grease pit." I clapped a hand on his shoulder and whisked him into the garage before Bella could take another potshot at me.

The workshop Rose had set up for herself spanned a third of our total garage despite her efforts to be conservative. Plastic wheel ramps hung on the wall she claimed for herself next to her collection of oil pans, car jacks and power cords. Her tool chests surrounding the carnage of the car she'd never finished were stocked with sparkplugs, gaskets and gizmos. I pointed it all out to Jake; he seemed to know what it meant.

He opened a few drawers of tools and surveyed the contents. A photograph of Rosalie and Emmett was taped to one of the lids Jake flipped open. The couple beamed at me from beneath a large beach towel, their wet hair plastered across their faces.

If Jake noticed, he said nothing. I questioned him about motorcycles while he scavenged through the tools. He knew his business as well as my sister and answered every inquiry. When I asked whether he'd help me fix one up, he just laughed and asked me where it was.

Bella sat on a tool chest while we talked. Her legs dangled but never touched ground. Her brown eyes watched me closely, as if studying me for answers. I didn't have any, so I ignored her.

Jake took an interest in Rose's work, so I showed him what I knew about it. He leaned into the engine carriage and investigated the progress. After a minute of tinkering he emerged and wiped his hands on his shirt. "It's only half done," he said, "but it's good."

"I know," I said smugly. My sister had a gift.

Jake smiled at my arrogance. "He's modest, Bella." Jake laughed. I smiled and leaned against one of the tool boxes. "You've got a good one."

"Oh, don't I know it," she replied. Without looking, I knew she'd rolled her eyes.

I sighed. "She's pissed at me, if you can't tell."

"Believe me, I can tell," he assured me, still smiling.

"It's nothing he doesn't deserve," Bella retorted.

"Which we'll talk about _later_," I finished, giving her a pointed look. If she wanted answers, she was going to get them.

Her eyes were wary. "Are you serious?"

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Babe, of course I'm fucking serious. Look, if I'm lying you get to hit me." I grinned. "I know you want to."

She smirked. I shuffled over, doing my best to look abashed, and gave her a peck on the lips. Her hand slapped me lightly on the cheek, a reminder of my promise. My shoulders shook with laughter. I pulled her into a hug and felt her smile against my neck. I'd won the fight.

_Jake didn't understand, but then again no one understood how we could go from 0 - 60 and back in under a minute. It gave them whiplash._

Though I kept Jake around as long as possible, he eventually got excited to use the tools I'd lent him and excused himself. I packed it for him down to the last gasket head and the calibrator. I wasn't sure how much of it he needed, but Rose didn't come home often; she wouldn't need this any time soon.

Bella held an umbrella for him as he heaved the duffel bag into his car. They said goodbye while I smoked under the eaves, well out of the misting rain. Jake waved at me as he slid into his driver's seat. I raised a hand in salute as his car turned the corner. He wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Bella sat down against the wall beside me and watched the overflow falling from our gutters. "So are we going to talk, or am I leaving?"

I exhaled slowly so I wouldn't instinctively ask her to leave. She was angry, and her car keys were hooked on her belt loop. I didn't know whether she would bother coming back once she left. It was not wise to test her. I tapped my fingers against my lips and thought.

Bella waited until my cigarette had burnt into the filter before taking it from my hand. She slid her fingers between mine and squeezed my hand. It was still shaking. My face couldn't pick an expression, but seeing her smile relieved me.

She hugged me, her face pressed against my chest. "Whatever is so bad, I can take it. I promise."

My heart pounded furiously. I felt lightheaded, and I couldn't tell whether it was her or Maria disrupting my nervous system. I wanted to find a way to avoid the situation. Bella might be able to deal in truths, but I wasn't so sure about myself. I lived in lies. The truth could kill me.

She followed my gaze when I didn't speak. "Is this you being upset?" she asked as if stumbling on the Ark of the Covenant at the local supermarket. "If you're upset, Jasper, I can do upset. But _this_ I can't deal with."

I didn't know what to say to that. _How was I supposed to react?_ Anyone else would know how to act, but nothing I did came out right. I couldn't even think of an excuse that Edward would have used. I didn't need all this stress.

Bella let out a frustrated breath and stood. I tugged on her pant leg before she gained a step, my eyes shifting from the heavy clouds in the sky to her. "Don't leave," I said, almost absently. "Please?"

* * *

**E/N: As proof that I'm super busy, I haven't been updating my personal blog as much, either. BUT there are some non-FF things posted if you're interested. You can find links to it on FB/HannahScribbles (my page). This way you know I'm not dead. =)**


	56. Being Practical

_Last time..._

My heart pounded furiously. I felt lightheaded, and I couldn't tell whether it was her or Maria disrupting my nervous system. I wanted to find a way to avoid the situation. Bella might be able to deal in truths, but I wasn't so sure about myself. I lived in lies. The truth could kill me.

She followed my gaze when I didn't speak. "Is this you being upset?" she asked as if stumbling on the Ark of the Covenant at the local supermarket. "If you're upset, Jasper, I can do upset. But _this _I can't deal with."

I didn't know what to say to that. _How was I supposed to react? _Anyone else would know how to act, but nothing I did came out right. I couldn't even think of an excuse that Edward would have used. I didn't need all this stress.

Bella let out a frustrated breath and stood. I tugged on her pant leg before she gained a step, my eyes shifting from the heavy clouds in the sky to her. "Don't leave," I said, almost absently. "Please?"

* * *

**Intox 56**

She stayed. Maybe my words wavered and she heard the sincerity in my voice, the weariness. Maybe it was when she looked at me and I met her gaze – _really_ met it - for the first time all day. Maybe she looked into my eyes and understood.

I needed her.

Bella helped me to my feet and led me inside. We held hands, our fingers entwined, as we walked up the stairs, past the living room, and continued to the second floor to my room. For privacy. So we could talk with a door between us and the world.

My room was a disaster zone. The floor was strewn with unsorted laundry arranged in unsightly piles that I couldn't believe I'd subjected my girlfriend to. I kicked them into the corner, disgusted. The air reeked of stale cigarettes, neglected clothes and empty promises to Carlisle that, no, I wouldn't smoke inside.

Bella plopped down on my bed, which, though probably a Petri dish for some new super virus, was the cleanest spot available. She picked up my favorite pillow by the corner and sniffed it curiously. I watched from the corner of my eye, pretending to fuss about as she smiled to herself and crushed the pillow against her chest.

_Fucking. Adorable._

When I had procrastinated too long, I turned around and saw her watching me. Waiting. Wanting an excuse to stay but afraid I would give her a reason to go. I sighed softly.

"I'm not avoiding you," I announced to the air.

From across the room, Bella raised an eyebrow. It said enough.

"Okay, maybe I am," I conceded, "but I'm a moody shit sometimes. Things rattle around up there-" I gestured to my temple – "and it gets bizarre. Really fucking weird."

She nodded as if she understood, and that's when I decided to give her the Mickey Mouse version of events. It wasn't a ponderous choice made with an angel on once shoulder and a devil on the other (though if it had been, my conscious would've dressed and looked a whole fuck like Edward). No, it was spontaneous. _Euphemisms_. Bella believed in me, and I wanted her to keep that. Someone had to have faith in me. If she wanted hard facts she could look them up in a dictionary. Jasper Hale dealt with truth in euphemisms. It was that simple.

"So I had this –" I tripped over the word – "girlfriend who was a bit of a nut job. And when I say that, just be aware that _I'm _saying it, okay? You've got to understand the context of the mess I got into and the shit storm that was my life when I say she had crazy eyes."

Bella frowned but remained still. "Psycho. Got it." She patted the empty space next to her. I shuffled across the room and flopped down on the bed, grateful for the reprieve from her gaze.

"It got real physical, real _intense_ – and I mean screaming, fighting _–_ really fast. It was just… raw. I don't know if you've ever-" I glanced over but Bella's face was already crimson, her mouth a small "o" as she digested what I was saying. She ducked her head.

I wanted to slap my forehead. _ Go figure I'd be telling this story to a virgin._

She shook her head.

I sighed. "She liked to play mind games, trick you into believing lies, guilt you into doing what she wanted - like, if you didn't, you'd get hurt." I wrung my hands. "I don't like getting hurt, Bella."

She leaned her head on my shoulder, hugged my arm – the one pocked with scars and fading track marks – and whispered, "I would never hurt you."

The air felt hot, stuffy, oppressive. I shrugged out of her arms, crossed the room and slid the window open. I breathed in the cool air for a minute then settled myself on the floor in front of a stack of papers. With Bella's eyes on me, I couldn't look up. Where this conversation was going, I didn't want to see her expression.

I sifted through the papers aimlessly so I didn't have to think about how Maria hurt me. How I hurt my family. How she looked at me that last day as if my leaving was an inside joke, as if I'd be back, as if I couldn't survive alone, and how that hurt the most because it was true.

"I hung around with a bad crowd," I said in a low voice. "That's where most of the rumors here come from: Lauren's cousin or something."

"Like, people saying you're in a gang?"

I grimaced. "Among other things."

Bella snorted. "As if."

"The point is that I wasn't where I should have been, and Rose got hurt because of me." I closed my eyes and took a breath before muttering, "But you know that story."

"Oh. God."

I was relieved that I didn't need to explain how I'd been fucking my abusive girlfriend the night by sister was raped. We sat quietly on our respective sides of the room. I don't know what was on Bella's mind, but I knew I had probably made her day a hundred times worse. _Why couldn't we have one normal day? Just _one _day – hell, one hour – that I didn't ruin?_

"This explains things," she said, her voice muffled. I looked up and saw that she'd crushed my pillow against herself.

I nodded, my gut twisting. I felt sick.

She mulled it over some more. "You aren't mad at me."

I shook my head. It wasn't Bella, couldn't be her. It was me. I'd already made a promise. I couldn't break it, couldn't make an exception – even for her. Accepting gray areas, half-decisions, was an easy way for the rational order of the world to fall apart, and I needed order. I was scared of her.

Bella curled her finger, beckoning me over. I climbed to my feed and shuffled closer, and she pulled me tight, her face pressed to my chest. Either my balance wavered or she pulled me down to the bed, but I caught myself inches away and our breath stopped.

I pressed my lips to hers softly and rolled onto my back. Bella settled atop me but didn't move to kiss me again. Instead she stretched across my body, her ear pressed to my chest as she listened to my heart. My fingers skimmed the exposed skin of her back. She was warm, like the touch of springtime sunlight.

She hummed, and the sound reverberated through my body. "Are you okay?"

"No, I mumbled. "I'm very not fucking okay."

"What was her name?"

My body flexed, gripping her tighter, but I forced myself to respond.

"And what you're trying to say is that you had sex with her."

"Mhmm."

"But what you don't want to say is that you won't with me. Because of what happened. That's what this is about."

She made it seem so simple. I chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so."

Bella let out a long sigh that sounded to me like a balloon deflating. For minutes she ran her fingers over my shoulder and said nothing, her nails gentle through my shirt. It would have been heaven except that I wanted to anticipate what she would say next. My brain rambled, but – as usual – I misunderstood her.

"I think we should actually talk about this later," she said.

I opened my mouth, but Bella kissed me before I had a chance to argue. My hands found her waist and pulled her closer. She was right, after all. We could talk about it later.

/MI\

No one really remembers falling asleep. The moments leading up to it are always hazy. Sometimes you fight it; you blink a little wider or try to keep your peepers open longer. But then the comfort sneaks up from behind, and it is impossible to fight against something you can't see coming.

I don't remember falling asleep, only waking up. I felt warmed to the bone, the cozy sleepy feeling that keeps people under covers on a winter morning. Without opening my eyes I could tell that Bella hadn't left; her presence was unmistakable. Thinking back, I still try to convince myself that it was just physical comfort - but I'd be lying; my brain was in tune with the lazy rhythm of my body, drifting in a blissful haze that only happened once in a million moments. I think I was happy.

The sensation faded as my brain rebooted. More alert, I could hear the quiet conversation that had been dreamlike silence a second before. A voice spoke, laughed, in the distance; Bella shushed it. I rolled into my blankets, chasing a moment that had already gone.

I opened my eyes and propped myself up on my elbows. The room had gotten darker, the weak light from the window almost extinguished by nightfall. My table light was on; Bella sat beside it with my book on her lap, but she was looking toward the figure in the doorway.

Edward straightened when he saw that I was awake. In an instant, he went from leaning against the door frame to standing at full attention, and I had a second to wonder whether it was because of me before he spoke. Even in the lowlight I could tell he was embarrassed. "Mom sent me up to, ah, check if you were ready for dinner," he said.

"You're watching me sleep?" I groaned and flopped back into a full body stretch. "That's creepy, bro."

He shrugged in acknowledgement, and I bit back a laugh. "I'd invite you in," I said.

Edward shook his head. "I'd rather not catch a disease in this war zone."

"Fuck you!" I said, but I was amused. "Tell her we'll be down in five."

I was still rubbing my eyes when we joined Edward and Alice in the living room for a game of Rummy. The absence of television created a distinct silence; I could hear pans and utensils clinking in the other room. Alice looked at me disapprovingly when I sat on the couch, as if you can't play fairly with a height advantage. I rolled my eyes and slid to the floor as Edward began to shuffle.

/MI\

Bella stayed for dinner, which turned out lucky because I didn't see her again until lunchtime Monday and then only to go over our presentation a final time. It had come together well; Bella had divided the speech into two parts. She related the environment to the human body, connecting health to the delicate balance of the Olympic ecosystem. She had assigned me to compare disease to environmental pollutants. We went over printed slides for the entire period, her making adjustments and me nodding in approval or suggesting a picture adjustment. She gave me note cards, complete with in text citations, to study. I did my best to smile.

Edward stayed at school late for community league baseball, which was just starting up and looking for members. I was surprised that he was trying out for it – not because he was bad, just that he hadn't gone to try-outs last year. Or maybe he had. _Christ, _I thought with sudden alarm, _had he made the team last year, too?_ I was too embarrassed to ask.

Bella gave me a ride to Andalano's office. I didn't want to go, but it would make for bad table conversation if I skipped and, besides, Bella was meeting her dad for dinner. Chief Swan had said she was spending too much time in the kitchen fussing over his diet and not enough in her room studying, so he had decided to take her out for dinner. She wrinkled her nose slightly during the retelling, and I understood why. His restaurant of choice was the home town diner down the street, a small place where older men chewed the cud while teens loitered in the parking lot; the fries were as greasy as the burgers, and there was never enough ketchup to go around. I thought about warning her that they didn't serve salad but didn't want to cause alarm.

Andalano wasn't behind his desk when I walked into his office. The emptiness alarmed me; I stopped and double-checked the name on the door. My chair was in its place. The drapes were pulled back, leaving the customary opaque veil between me and the view I'd never seen. It was the same room as always but different.

I walked around the desk and tried looking at it from another angle. There was a great view of the door and the shelves and the chair where I usually fidgeted. I sat, squirming side-to-side in the doctor's oversized chair and scooting myself around on its metal castors. The clock was visible from one position, gone from the next; I wondered how aggravating it must be for him to have a clock visible while boring patients rattled on. _Was I boring?_ I rejected the thought almost immediately and drew back the curtain so I could look out his window. I was fucking delightful.

The sky was overcast. It was always overcast, always gray and hanging over your head like a tragedy waiting to happen. It made the asphalt gray and the sidewalk crack; it bleached the color out of everything but the distant green mountain and the orange truck visible in the lot down the street.

I hadn't anticipated seeing Bella's truck from here, but there it was. I waited, expecting to see her in the door or a window or a reflection at any second, but all I spotted were some of the guys from Bella's old lunch table tossing a football in the side lot of the diner; they were never up to any good. I was disappearing into the sheer curtains, leaving Andalano's office behind. It felt like leering, but I couldn't stop myself. If there was a chance I could see her, I had to take it.

Chase threw the ball long. I held my breath as Mike sprinted, barely making the catch, and nearly plowed into Bella's truck. Eric was doubled over, pointing to the diner's window. Mike raised his hands and back away from the car. I thought that would be it, but a second later he was shaking his ass and dancing like an idiot in front of the window. There was only one person I could imagine him doing that to. Bella.

"Oh, I'm going to kill him," I growled, standing.

"Kill who?" said Andalano from behind me.

"Sonofabitch!" I jumped and spun toward the sound but caught myself in the stupid fucking curtains and ended up on my ass in his chair.

I'd forgotten I was in his office. He was sitting in my chair with one meaty calf crossed over his knee. He smiled at me and repeated his question.

I couldn't kill him now. My psychiatrist would know who did it. "Mike," I snapped, my fists clenching.

"Why are we killing him again?"

Well, the answer to that one was obvious. "He deserves it."

"And?" Andalano pressed.

"He's a public menace," I snarled, "and he insulted my goddamn girlfriend!"

"Just now?" He was trying to provoke me now.

"Yes."

"You witnessed it just now?"

I slammed my palm against his desktop. It stung. I took a deep breath and used the pain to anchor me before I spoke. "Yes, right fucking now, down the street." I told him what had happened.

Andalano sat back. "Well that changes things," he said.

The mockery in his voice stung me. I frowned. "What did you have in mind then?"

"Meditation," he said evenly.

I stared at him for a full five minutes without saying anything – I should know, I had the clock on my side. Andalano had never struck me as the meditating type, but now he wanted to be my stress coach. Clearly he was trying to distract me. As soon as I'd processed this I started off belligerently – it was useless, I argued, because my brain controlled its own pace. I only relented when he said I could kick off my shoes and stay in his chair. You can't buy that kind of privilege.

Instead of practicing for Alice's gallery opening that evening, I went to my room as soon as I got home. I opened my textbook and began reading all the notes Bella had made. When Carlisle knocked on my door for dinner, I told him that I wasn't hungry – and it wasn't a lie. My hands were trembling; he would have called me out for low blood sugar and made me eat, but I couldn't have eaten even if I'd had an appetite.

/MI\

"I think I'm going to be sick," I said desperately and turned to Bella, who was trying to set up her slideshow on Mr. Banner's outdated projector. Our audience looked restless, shuffling papers and avoiding eye contact as they waited to be bored – to see me fail.

Bella rolled her eyes and nudged me away from the power cord. It had taken her five minutes to position the frayed bundle of wires so that the projector stayed on. Hovering so close, I was in danger of undoing all her work. "You didn't eat," she reminded me for the fifth time.

I knew that, but somehow it didn't help. I took a step back and crossed my arms. "I feel dizzy."

"Because you didn't eat," she said, sorting through her slides a final time. I swear she'd double-checked them three times before. "Try picturing everyone in their underwear."

"Does that include you?" I joked.

"If it helps," she said, giving me a crooked smile.

I gulped. My mouth had gone dry.

Bella started us off well; our presentation showed promise until it was my turn to speak. I forgot half the note cards and resorted to gesticulation and wild analogies to explain myself. At one point I left the slides completely. I rambled on about the aftereffects of oil spills I'd seen in Alaska and the zinc contaminations Alice told me about in northeast Pennsylvania. Bella saved me, interjecting with anatomy comparisons that brought me back to the topic; I fed off her energy as I stumbled through the presentation.

Bella caught up with me after the final bell rang. We walked together as far as the parking lot, our strides matched. I smoked while the buses pulled away from the curb. Bella was assuring me that our presentation had gone well, but she couldn't know that until grades came back at the end of the week and I didn't want to think about it anymore. I tuned her out.

Mike emerged from the main building. My eyes tracked him as he left the sidewalk, crossed the median and headed toward his car. I was looking for an excuse but couldn't say I'd overseen the incident. Mike felt my stare just as Bella turned to see what had my attention. He grinned; Bella huffed and turned around. Just like that I had my excuse.

I glared at Mike. At least I could play the omniscient boyfriend card. "What'd he do?"

Bella looked at her feet and denied everything. She was a terrible liar. Something was bothering her, and I wasn't going to take no for an answer. Communication was the key to a healthy relationship, after all.

Finally, she snapped. "Can you let it go? It's embarrassing, Jasper!"

"Sure thing. Won't happen again," I said. I played it cool, but inside I was rejoicing at her reaction. She'd basically given me the go-ahead.

"You're not going to beat him up in the lunchroom, are you?" She sounded nervous now.

_Why did everyone think that?_ Andalano had talked me down. After a quick meditation session, he'd given me some good advice that set my mind at ease. _Finally_.

"Of course not," I said as Mike's car left school grounds. I'd decided to be practical. I didn't want to be expelled, and Forks was a big town. Geography was on my side. There were plenty of places besides the lunchroom to make sure he never bothered her again.


	57. Finding Distractions

57.

I listened to my psychiatrist, and I avoided Mike Newton for three days. Andalano thought the extra time would calm my nerves and make me want to kill the little fucker a bit less, but it didn't. Every time I saw him in the halls I looked the other way and counted backward from twenty-two. I didn't think I could wait so long, but I held my temper. I used that time to focus on Latin tutoring and math equations and guitar chords.

Bella could see my agitation but instead of respecting the work I had to get done, she thought it was more helpful to molest me in the school library while I was studying. She slid her hands down my chest, pressing herself into my back. The air went out of my lungs. I tried turning, but she was behind me and not having it.

"Come to dinner with me at Angela's house," she purred in my ear, "and then we can study at my place." Her tone was suggestive. Her hands felt like heaven.

"I have a test," I complained.

Bella sighed and dropped into the seat beside me. "We all have tests. That's what finals are, after all." She rested her chin on my shoulder. "That's why there are friends to make sure your head won't explode. Ben will be there, too."

"Stop trying to distract me," I grumbled.

"You _need _a distraction," she said.

I bit my pen cap. Her friends had already given me a chance, and I'd blown it. After the bowling episode, I doubted that I'd be welcome. I shook my head.

Fifteen minutes I was standing in front of Angela's house anyway. Some prodding… a couple kisses along my jaw, and she'd changed my mind. I was a sucker. She tugged me toward the house, but I didn't budge.

"Don't be a baby," she said. "Jess isn't here and Mike won't get off work until ten o'clock."

It wasn't fear; I wanted to make a good second impression. "You can't just show up at someone's house empty handed," I said, scandalized. I looked around and spotted a raised flower bed next door. The buttercups were pretty. I walked over.

"Are you serious? Jasper-" Bella's voice cut off as I ripped out a bunch by the roots and returned, dribbling dirt behind me. She shook her head. "Are you happy?"

I ducked to her height and pressed my lips to hers. Her lips were soft. I could taste spearmint and something else – something you could only appreciate with a full-contact open mouthed kiss on a bed. Bella sensed it, too, because when she broke away to catch her breath her eyes were large. I brushed her hair aside, leaving a dirt thumbprint smeared across her cheek.

"Of course I'm happy," I said.

Angela opened the door before we could knock. I held out the flowers, and dirt spilled across her entryway floor. Bella covered her mouth with a hand. Angela looked at the buttercups, her lips twitching.

"Are those from Mrs. Knauz's yard?" she asked. She was trying not to laugh, but her shoulders were shaking.

"I can replant them," I suggested.

"No!" She took my bouquet and shook out the dirt clod over the edge of the porch. "They're, um, really pretty." She smiled. "I've got the perfect planter."

I followed them into the kitchen where Angela and her mom were cooking. The air was hot and filled with the scents of sage and tomato. Mrs. Weber looked like her daughter – or, I guess Angela looked like her mother. Angela had Mrs. Weber's sandy brown hair but wore it in a ponytail rather than cut short. Both were tall, almost enough to meet me at eye level, but I appreciated their genuine smiles most. Like her mom, Angela was a good person.

I tried to stay and chat but Bella banished me to the living room with Ben and two kids who turned out to be Angela's younger brothers. Ben was playing first person shooters with the older boy, who I vaguely recognized as a freshman at the school. The couch they occupied was plenty long enough, but Angela's youngest brother was sitting on the floor at the far end away from the action, filling out a 200 page book of Sudokus in front of the coffee table. I sat down on the couch and picked up an activity book from the top of the stack to his right.

He looked up as if I'd ripped the book into shreds. I hadn't expected such a strong reaction. I apologized and handed it back to him. He checked it immediately, flipping through its pages twice, then repositioned it on the stack and glared up at me.

I smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, man, I like puzzles, too. I didn't know you were still working on it."

"I don't like strangers touching my stuff," he said, and if he hadn't been so serious I would have thought he was adorable.

I nodded sagely. "Well, I'm Jasper. I'm Bella's friend, and I'm nineteen so that means I'm not strange."

"Nineteen is an odd number," he said, picking his pencil up and turning back to his book. "I don't like odd numbers."

"It is a weird number," I agreed, puzzled. "I haven't liked it so far. I don't like fifteen, either."

He pushed the book I'd picked up across the coffee table and slapped a ballpoint pen on top of it. "You can do the ones that end in three and nine, but you have to use blue ink." Without knowing the kid, I could tell this was a privilege.

I thanked him and slid onto the floor, nervous that he would revoke my permission to use his things because I hadn't asked _his _name or age. He didn't. He was already absorbed in numbers again, his pudgy hands working out the numbers faster than I ever could. I took this as a sign, picked up my borrowed pen and started working.

Dinner was ready before I'd finished page seven. I hated the thought of leaving a puzzle half-finished, but I didn't want to make waves. I packed up my equipment and handed it over for inspection. Once it was deemed well-managed, the kid allowed me to help him clean up and showed me where to put the books. I complied bemusedly with his instructions and, in return, he let me sit next to him at the dinner table.

Mr. Weber had just emerged from his study. He stood at the head of the table and blessed the food. Around me, heads dropped in prayer. Even Bella folded her hands. I felt like a pagan so I bowed my head, but that made me feel hypocritical. I chanced a peek at Bella and caught her doing the same. We smiled together.

Mr. Weber asked Bella and me how school was going. Bella, of course, had no trouble answering but I couldn't lie to a pastor. I brainstormed while she was talking and came up with a delicate response that sounded like a PR spot for summer classes.

"See, Michael? It's not so bad," Mrs. Weber said to her older son, giving him a nudge. The kid looked at his plate, his cheeks turning pink. I pitied him.

"It sounds lame, but it's only a couple hours a day for each class," I said conversationally. "I go practically every year." I picked up a sprig of asparagus and bit it in half, thinking about how miserable the experience actually was. Forks only has sunlight three of the twelve months in a year, and I had the misfortune of spending them indoors.

Mr. Weber looked alarmed. I'm sure he thought I was a delinquent, so I explained. "It's much quieter. I get along better with silence than I do most people."

Mrs. Weber turned to me. "Michael didn't do too well in history. It's not his favorite subject."

"History's just a bunch of stupid numbers to memorize," Michael muttered. "It's not even relevant."

I couldn't believe my ears. Bella tugged on my arm to distract me, but I barely felt it. "You can't be fucking serious," I blurted.

Bella kicked me.

"No, I'm just saying-" She was looking at me strangely. The room went silent. On the other side of the table, Ben was holding in a laugh.

"Something I said?"

/MI\

Conversation picked up again with the rest of the table, but I was out of my comfort zone there. It was easier to talk with Andrew. That little dude was on my level, and once he got started, a chatterbox. We only got in one argument, and that was because I disagreed when he said he would get rid of all odd numbers if he was president.

As we walked to the truck after dinner, I knew I wouldn't be invited back to the Weber house. I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd ruined dinner for Bella, too. I felt hopelessly useless. What was I even good for? I opened the truck door for her, but she didn't even need me for that. She needed someone with people skills and a verbal filter, and that wasn't me.

"I'm sorry I'm so difficult," I said.

Bella craned her head up, her eyes searching until I had to make eye contact. "Never apologize for being yourself."

She was trying to make me feel better but instead she was making it worse. I knew that kindness shouldn't make me anxious – just like I knew auroras were caused by Earth's magnetic field. My heart felt fluttery anyway; both were hard to believe.

My silence was making her uncomfortable. I let her go and went around the truck to the passenger's side. I took my time so I could get a look at her. When I did, I cursed myself for ruining her mood. She probably thought I hated her. I didn't, of course, but the thought of her believing that made me queasy.

When she hadn't said anything by the time she started the truck, I started talking. There was nothing to say, so I said everything I could think of.

"Did you know what they called Louis XIV's mistress?" Bella shook her head with a grunt that managed to sound vaguely interested. I knew she wasn't but pressed on anyway. "They called her the true queen of France, you know, because she had this presence."

Bella nodded unconvincingly and turned the street corner.

"There's a theory that Napoleon failed to invade Russia because of the buttons used on the French uniforms."

"Really?"

"Apparently tin breaks down in freezing-" I stopped, distracted. "Hey, stop the truck."

"What's wrong?" Bella was already pulling to the side of the road. She knew my tenuous relationship with vehicles.

"I just found a new extracurricular activity," I said, stepping out of the cab. Bella turned off the truck and followed.

The motorcycle was a rusted heap. I removed the cardboard price tag and knelt to examine it. The bike needed to be stripped down to the frame, picked over and then replaced entirely. I expected that it would explode if I tried to start it, but still... fifty bucks wasn't a bad deal. I sat back on my haunches and studied the bike. "You think Jake would help me fix this up?"

"He does love projects."

I nodded, envisioning how the mud-caked motorcycle would look once finished. "I think I want it."

"You realize this is much more dangerous than riding in a car, right?" Bella said. "Cars have seat belts and airbags, and this just has … well, _air._"

I stood and dusted my hands on the front of my jeans. "That's the whole point," I said, turning to her. "If you're in a high speed car crash, you might survive. Sure, you'll suffer traumatic injury and spend all your savings on hospital bills and be a burden on everyone during recovery - assuming you're that lucky. But if you crash a motorcycle, chances are it's over and done. No pain, no muss, no fuss. End of story."

She looked sick. "That's one of the most terrible things I've ever heard."

"Then pretend I'm an adrenaline junkie."

"I'm not sure it would be pretending," she said archly.

I shook my head, grinning as Bella walked around the truck and climbed back into the driver's seat. That girl had it in for me, I swear.

/MI\

We studied at the kitchen table while her dad pretended not to monitor us from the living room. I held her hand, my fingers laced loosely through hers as I read through my Latin textbook, which I'd hardly opened since the beginning of the school year. I flipped single handedly from chapter to glossary to chapter, marking up the book with my pencil and copying everything that seemed useful into my notebook.

Bella's fingers tapped against mine, and once again I was reminded of her internal rhythm. She always had a song in her head and a tune dancing through her fingertips. She claimed she was tone deaf, but I didn't believe that for a minute. The girl should have been a musician. Maybe she _had _been. I'd never asked, and now the curiosity was eating me. I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again, the question on the tip of my tongue. Bella smiled to herself. I sighed and returned to studying.

There was a running bet on who would talk first during our study sessions; whoever won had to buy dinner the first time we went on an official and unsupervised date. Bella always bet that it would be me within fifteen minutes, and usually it was. I couldn't sit still - or think still for that matter. But today I was determined to win. It wasn't that I wanted to get out of paying for dinner, though she had amassed somewhere around twenty free meals. No, I was just a sore loser like that.

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "Did you ever play an instrument?"

Bella looked up, surprised by the question but not the timing. "You're never going to win the bet," she said with a chuckle. "Face it; you're buying dinner from now until hell freezes over."

"Hell _is _frozen over," I pointed out. "Haven't you read Dante?"

She smirked. "Don't be petty."

"Besides, I'm going to roll all the dinners into one meal on top of the Space Needle," I said.

"That's actually pretty cool."

"I know. Happy birthday!"

"You can't get me anything for my birthday," Bella said, shocked. "That's – that's –"

"Serious?"

She nodded.

"That's why I'm not technically getting you anything for your birthday," I said, "and you'll have to pay for the cake."

Bella slapped my shoulder. She was laughing. "You're such a dick sometimes!"

"So what instrument did you play that you're embarrassed to tell me about?"

Charlie spoke up from the other room. "It was clarinet. Want to see pictures?"

Bella covered my mouth with her hands before I could answer. "He's completely repulsed by the idea. There's no way he wants to see that, dad," she said, talking over my muffled attempts to contradict her.

Charlie looked through the doorway and saw me trying to mime a photo album. He laughed. It wasn't a good impression because Bella kept swiping my hands away.

"Good thing you kids are done studying; it's getting late. Jasper, why don't you call your folks for a ride?" He followed up the suggestion by slapping the cordless phone into my hand, still chuckling. He opened the refrigerator and leaned in for a beer.

Bella squeezed my hand hard enough to draw my attention. Slowly, she lifted her gaze toward the second floor. I followed her eyes up, unsure whether I was getting the right hint. She wiggled her eyebrows and mouthed the word _window. _

I grinned and dialed my own cell phone number. It went straight to voicemail. I left myself a long, one-sided message and hung up irritably. Someone, somewhere would find that phone one day and get a very confusing earful.

"Everything okay?" Charlie asked.

"Edward," I said in feigned exasperation as I stood. "I've got to meet him by the pharmacy."

Bella tried not to smile as she walked me to the front door.

/MI\

I walked around the block before returning to Bella's house. After stashing my backpack in the bed of her truck, I climbed up to her bedroom. She let me drop through the window before wrapping her arms around me. She'd changed into pajamas while I was gone, and the clothes were thinner; I could feel her body heat as she traced kisses down my jaw that I was completely unprepared for. My body tingled, and I had to grab hold of her desk to steady myself.

"I thought you had to leave," she teased.

Downstairs, her dad was watching black & white reruns on the television with a gun in his lap. It was the same gun he'd use to murder me if he found me in his daughter's bedroom. It had been wrong to accept her invitation; I'd made a mistake by coming here. I didn't care. Good God, I was getting myself in deep.

I raised her chin and looked into Bella's eyes. They smoldered. "I wasn't done studying," I managed foggily, bewildered by the way her touch could ensnare me. She made me powerless. Despite everything, I enjoyed it. I wanted it.

And just like that our lips were together, our breath hot, our touch desperate. I wanted her. Deep in my bones and blood and soul, I wanted Bella. My fists were in her hair. I was pulling her up to me but stumbling forward anyway because she was leading me, fingernails pressing into my back.

We fell into bed, and I only just caught myself on my elbows. Bella's faced was flushed, her lips already bruised, and I might have felt bad if it hadn't felt so good. Her fingers were insistent and I agreed with what they said. There was too much space between us; it needed to be filled.

Sliding my hand around her waist, I lifted her against me and edged farther onto the bed. Her shirt had come up, exposing her translucent pale skin beneath. It was veined marble heated pink. I kissed her navel and pulled her bed shorts lower to reveal her hips. I nipped at them hungrily as her breathing grew shallow.

She held my hands against her, let them roam up and over her breasts; she guided me until I was pulling her shirt over her head. I counted each rib with my lips, drunk on the taste of her skin and the sound of her breathing. I was hard, about five seconds from doing something regrettable, and part of me didn't care. _No consequences, no pain, no permanence, _that part of me said. _Give up. Forget everything. Live_. The rest of me was terrified.

Bella wrapped her legs around my waist and raised her hips to meet me. We were moving too fast, too soon, but my entire body was alive with her touch. She was controlling me.

"Babe," I begged, "slow down." _Please_, I added mentally. _Please, please stop me._ She had to be the reasonable one. The whole world knew it wasn't going to be me.

I tried to pull away, but her hands were moving across my chest. She slid her hands between us, under my shirt and over my bare skin. I moved to pin her hands still, but she slipped through my grip and continued south.

Bella wasn't listening. I was alone; I was trapped. For a terrible instant my mind flashed back to Maria and I was living in holy terror that she could play my moods like an accordion. She had known me better than I knew myself. When I told Bella all this I'd expected her to understand, not use it against me.  
"Bella –" _Oh for fuck's sake. _My entire body jumpstarted as she found my zipper. It was getting hard to breathe. And think.

_Not fair._

I recoiled, lost balance and caught myself before I hit the floor with a thud. I scrambled to the window and sat there in a dark stain where I'd dragged muddy water through the window weeks earlier. "We should think about this." I gasped, fumbling to control my zipper.

She sat up, almost as flustered as me. "Ja-"

"Gimme a minute." I held up a hand to ward her off while I regained control. I was angry. I pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezed my eyes shut and thought hard. Before I said anything more I needed to know who I was angry with: myself, Bella or the elephant in the room. I needed to be reasonable, too. I could be reasonable. I could do that.

"Jasper, look at me," my girlfriend said. I opened my eyes. Her expression was no longer shocked. She watched me carefully, concern drawn across her face with bold brush strokes. "What's wrong?"

"I, uh..." My eyes trailed down her face across her half-naked body. I swallowed hard and looked away.

She scooted closer and cupped my face in her small hands. Her fingers felt like silk. I hummed, my body instinctively demanding more, and let myself be drawn in by the gentle press of her lips against mine.

And then I remembered that she knew how my mind worked. She wasn't worried about me. I pushed myself away from her and retreated farther against the window. "You're a minor, for crissakes!" I said, summoning some moral outrage.

She scoffed. When I didn't crack a smile, she hesitated. "Are you serious?"

"Damn right I am!"

"I didn't expect you to be puritanical." She crossed her arms. The motion pushed her chest forward.

"I'm not... I just … not right now." I averted my eyes. "Can you put a shirt on? I can't think straight."

"Doesn't have to be _right_ now," she argued but grabbed her tank top from the floor and yanked it on. She sat beside me and dropped her hands into her lap. "I just … well, you feel so distant sometimes."

I sighed, pulled her closer and kissed the corner of her mouth. _How many times now had I explained this? _I tried rephrasing it. "I have a lot on my plate."

"So now I'm a food dish?" She was watching me intently.

I sighed. This was hopeless. "Yes, you're vegetables. And I still have carbs and protein on my plate. _And_the rest of yesterday's breakfast that I never finished."

She considered what I'd said. "For now I'll pretend that's not offensive."

I wanted to kiss her, but her touch was agony. I rested my head against her shoulder instead. "I love you," I said quietly after several minutes. "I love you, but I have to go."

She looked at me, mouth agape, as I got to my feet. For a moment I thought I'd reignited our fight, but she looked hurt now, not angry.

"Why?" she asked. Her eyes said, _what did I do wrong?_

I took a deep breath and found myself still incapable of looking her in those sad brown eyes. She deserved to be with someone normal, someone who jumped at the chance of hooking up with someone her caliber of sexy instead of running away. "It's a long walk home with no car," I said as I slipped out the window. She hung over the window sill as I descended, but I refused to look up again.

I needed a distraction

/MI\

I sat on a stack of discarded shipping pallets behind the store, waiting. The night had turned out dark but calm. Beyond the chipped asphalt alley, the trees grew tall; I listened to them whispering in the darkness and played with the lighter in my hand. Small tongues of flame danced up each time I flicked the spark. I studied it, meditating on the little fire that burned for itself under my control, and let understanding come to me.

I was angry at myself for my weakness, for being afraid and easily manipulated. I never followed through on plans; I said two things and did three others. I listened too much, letting others sway my judgment. Not even Bella took me seriously. No surprise there.

The store was closed for the night. It closed at 10pm - I'd made sure of that days ago - but whatever employees hadn't gone home early were still inside. It was a family company so, essentially, Mike would be the one to lock up shop tonight.

I waited until the blond figure emerged. He dropped a black garbage bag and locked the door. He flipped the garbage bag into the trash bin like it was a basketball and cheered himself. It was time. I hopped off my perch.

"Hey Mike." I ambled into the open. It wasn't much brighter than the rest of the alley despite the moonlight above and the weak light above the back door. The security camera wouldn't pick me up at this distance.

He spun too fast, probably wishing he hadn't locked the back door yet, and ended with his back pressed against the garbage bin. His eyes darted right and left, looking for a getaway. It was either a mark of guilty conscious or fear; I may just have looked that scary. I hoped he wouldn't run. That wasn't part of the plan.

"Didn't mean to make you jumpy," I said with a chuckle. "I just wanted to talk."

The night was dark, but even in the flickering yellow safety light I thought I saw his eyes narrow in suspicion. I held my hands out, palms up. His posture relaxed visibly. I gloated. It was like catching a cornered animal. You just had to make them trust you.

"We don't have much to talk about." He huffed and brushed past me. I don't know why, but I was irritated by his reaction. I turned and hurried to keep up as he walked farther out of the camera's sight.

"It's about Bella," I said.

That got his attention. I clenched my jaw as he stopped and turned. "What about her?"

My anger exploded. I socked him in the stomach. He stumbled backward against the wall. He pulled himself upright, raised his fists and tried to lash out. I blocked and ducked around his arms to land a punch into his chest. Mike doubled over, his breath gone.

He had to pay. If I couldn't track down his whole crew of underdeveloped marauders, at least I could reach him. I hoped he was strong because he was going to take all the punishment. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and stood him upright.

"You can't-"

"Listen to me you little shit-fuck. You can't go around disrespecting women." I kneed him again. He cried out. "It's fucking disgraceful!"

"You're crazy!" he shouted. His bravado was misplaced but cute.

I growled, breathing heavily. I elbowed him in the gut. Mike dropped with a groan, and I spoke while he crawled back from his knees. "You're offensive to women, and I'm sick of dealing with it for Bella. So I'm only going to say it once: you disgust me."

"I'll kick your ass," he gasped. He scuffled, trying to free himself, but I struck again. Mike was slower on his feet; he deflected one fist but caught the other square in the breastplate. The impact was audible. He collapsed forward, and I caught him in the stomach. He vomited. I kicked his legs out from under him and watched him go down.

He was crying. I booted him in the ribs. I wished he would shut the fuck up so it would be over. I just wanted him to be quiet, but he kept screaming; each blow became a staccato note that rang loudly in my ears and fed my anger. I kicked him, shouting over him until I lost count.

When he went silent, I stopped. I knelt over him, pinning his arms to his sides. His face and shirt were covered in vomit. There were tears in his eyes, reflective in the moonlight. He looked pathetic, like a fly tacked against Styrofoam. I wrapped a hand around his throat.

"If you ever fucking look at Bella again, I swear on my mother's grave I will cut out your eyes and send them to you as a Christmas present," I snarled. "Do you understand me?"

He blinked.

_Good enough_. I stood back and wiped the muck off my pants, amazed I hadn't hit his face once; I must've gotten better at directing my anger. "C'mon, get up. I'm sick of you."

I'd menaced him into a statue. He just stared at me wide-eyed, one arm wrapped protectively around his injured ribs. He was terrified of me. I liked it.

"Stand the fuck up," I growled, "or I'll really hit you."

He climbed to his feet on shaky legs. His pants were dirty, his uniform shirt crumpled and stained. He didn't appear injured, but he winced as he tried to straighten and braced himself against the wall. Looks can be deceiving. I should know.

"You look like shit," I said matter-of-factly. I tugged my pack of cigarettes out of my pocket, shook one loose and lit it, nodding in agreement with myself. "You know, you're lucky I'm here to help."

My step dad had taught a long time ago that there were two steps to scaring people. First you beat them down. Then you helped them back up. Mike clearly didn't understand how the game was played because he gaped at me, lost for words.

"People keep saying I'm crazy," I said, exhaling smoke in his face, "but I'm not. Not really."

He coughed and his face screwed up in pain as it rattled his chest. He almost went down again, but I caught him by the upper arm and pulled him upright. His knees shook. I wrapped an arm under his shoulders and supported him.

"I really beat the shit out of you, man," I said cheerfully as we began walking. "You should take self defense classes or karate or something."  
I prompted him with a squeeze until he nodded in agreement.

"See, you've got to be careful who you talk shit about," I supplied, talking with my free hand as we turned the corner of the building. "For future reference, of course."

"But, but -" Mike stumbled along with my help, confused and afraid. I sympathized. I really did. I'd had the same reaction once. You learned quick.

"I know, I know. You didn't even think about it," I continued as we shuffled into the parking lot and I spotted his car. I gave him another squeeze, harder this time, that left tears running down his face. I propped him against the storefront and padded him down for keys. "Lesson learned. You never see these things coming," I said, producing the car keys.

The cigarette bobbed in my lips as I spoke. He watched, his lip trembling as I slid his keys into my pocket. He looked around the empty lot as if sizing it up to make a break for it, but we both knew he couldn't run. I patted his back and threw his arm over my shoulder. He whimpered. I couldn't tell whether it was from pain or fear, but I enjoyed the sound.

"I don't think you should be driving right now," I said, "but don't worry. I'm going to help you get home. What are friends for?"

It took a long time walking him home. Even though his house was only a few blocks away, I had to drag him along. He kept tripping over the uneven sidewalk and trying to sit down; he wasn't handling the pain well. He probably had some bruised ribs - maybe even a kidney - so I did most of the talking.

"Seriously, though, what do you have against Jessica? Are you blind or is it one of those we've-been-friends-forever type situations?" When he didn't answer, I offered him a cigarette.

"I d-don't smoke," he said. It was the first thing he'd said in half an hour. He was warming up to me. I shrugged and helped myself to another.

"See, the problem is that your situation is making life really difficult for Bella," I continued, walking slower now that we were on his street. His limp was getting worse and sweat had begun to dampen his shirt. I took a drag of my cigarette and held it to his lips. He shook his head.

I could see his home ahead, a two-story house painted rose pink that cowered beneath a towering elm. A gravel driveway separated their yard from the street; there was a car parked there beneath the tree. The streetlight, disrupted by the overgrown tree above, cast crooked shadows across the wet concrete. His entire property was an insurance claim waiting to happen.

I sighed. "So, I'm already getting sick of this love triangle because one of its members is already taken, right? And then I see this guy - we'll call him Mike - fucking around where it's none of his goddamn business when he has a girl of his own chasing after him every day. What am I supposed to do?"  
We were in front of his house now. The porch lights were off, but somewhere inside the television was giving of flickering blue light. Mike began to pull away when I offered to take him to the door, but I clapped my hand around him in a vice grip. He yelped.

I walked him up the flagstone path cutting through their yard and rang the doorbell. We waited in silence, listening to the television go silent inside. Someone shuffled to the door. At the last second I dropped my cigarette and ground it out with my heel. The door opened.

"Hi, Mrs. Newton," I said as her eyes widened. Beside me, Mike was sweating, his complexion pallid. "I was walking home and saw your son out in front of the store. He didn't look so good, so I thought I'd help him home." I smiled soberly. "Can I help him inside?"

She opened the door for me and waved us toward the living room. Mike shook his head in protest, trying to warn them about me, but nobody paid him any attention. I was helping him onto the couch when his dad came downstairs. Mr. Newton looked at his wife, who had gone pale, and then at me, crouched on the floor by his son. The situation had to be contained. I stood and introduced myself before Mike had a chance to speak.

Five minutes later, I was sitting in Mr. Newton's plush lounge chair turning a cup of water in my hands. I raised it to my lips but lowered it and looked at Mike instead. Mrs. Newton had a wet cloth pressed against his forehead, but he didn't seem too relieved by it. He was stealing my show. I frowned at him, stretched out in a pained grimace on the couch, and turned back to his dad.

"Is he okay?" I asked worriedly. My lip quivered. "He was just lying there, you know, kind of doubled over when I walked by, and -" I blinked hard and looked intently at the glass in my hands, pretending to compose myself. Mr. Newton made a gruff, reassuring sound and patted my back.

I felt triumphant then, proud that I could still pull it off, and nearly ruined the moment by grinning. Instead, I furrowed my brows and met Mr. Newton's eyes. "What if he has appendicitis?" I said plaintively. "What if it's ruptured and he's sick or has internal bleeding or something?"

I'd touched a nerve. Mrs. Newton stood and wiped her hands down the front of her pants. She shared a worried look with her husband then turned to me. Her hands were trembling. I sniffled and shifted my gaze to Mike, who hadn't improved since coming home and was - if possible - looking weaker than when he'd gotten his beating. He belonged at a hospital not their home, and they knew it.

I set down his key ring, shook hands with his parents and wrote down their phone numbers on a piece of scrap paper so I could call them in the morning. They were charmed to my side of the story, and why not?

I stopped by Mike on the way out. His eyes were half open but blank. Smiling brightly, I held up the paper. "I hope you feel better, Mike," I said. His eyes widened as I rose. He knew the game now and was really, truly scared.

"Don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow," I said, my voice laced with saccharine, and left without looking back.

I smiled as their door shut behind me. My joy was bubbling over, and I was glad I'd followed Bella's advice tonight. Mike had been a wonderful distraction.


	58. Causing Effects

Carlisle picked me up a quarter mile from home. I could sense he wanted to talk because he had that serious face on. It irked me. My walk home had been as close to peaceful as I could get.

I closed my eyes. "Won't happen again."

"Don't do that," he said. "You don't even know what I'm going to say."

I stifled a yawn and looked at the clock. I hadn't realized how late it was, and now his attitude made sense. "I got distracted. Mike was throwing up in the Outfitters parking lot. I helped him home."

"You're supposed to call for a ride," he said, enunciating all the words, "not walk- Olympic Outfitters isn't even on the way home, Jasper." He looked at me, checking for signs of guilt as we turned into the drive.

"I needed fresh air," I said

"After Bella's?"

"After Bella's," I agreed, wanting the conversation to be over. I didn't want to think about her right now.

The car pulled into the garage. Carlisle parked and turned the ignition off but didn't open his door. He turned to me. "Did you two fight?"

"Are you going to pry into _everything_ I do away from home?" I snapped, unbuckling my safety belt. I tried the door. It was child-locked. "Let me out of the car."

He looked at me, head tilted, trying to read my mind. "Did you have sex?"

"Let me out of the fucking car." I pulled the door handle again. His interrogation techniques were exactly why I wasn't having this conversation now. "Please."

"Just trying to figure out what took you so long." He got out, walked around to my door and took his sweet time opening it.

"You're starting to piss me off," I said, climbing out.

"If it gets you to talk to me, then I don't give a shit," he said.

"What gives you the right-"

"The U.S. Government," he retorted, "when they made me your guardian."

"I'm nineteen!"

"And yet you still live in my house," he said. "Funny how that works, right?"

His words stung, and I had no comeback for the truth. I winced. It wasn't my life goal to be a burden. I never asked to stay - hell, I'd _tried _to leave. My mission wasn't to ruin everybody's lives; I knew they would be happier with me gone. I turned.

Carlisle sighed. "Jasper, wait." He sounded tired. When I didn't stop he followed me into the foyer. "Jasper, if you don't stop I'm just going to bring this up again in front of Alice."

I froze halfway up the stairs. There had to be cotton in my ears, because he didn't just say that. I turned. Carlisle was waiting at the base of the stairs. "Are you blackmailing me?" I demanded.

"If I have to," he said in a disquietingly solemn voice.

Alice had been doing well lately. Her nightmares had eased up, and she got along with Bella - except for the shopping thing. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin their friendship - and she didn't need to know about my private life. Not now, not ever.

I stared down at him. "If you didn't treat me like this, I'd talk to you."

"If you took your medication, I wouldn't have to worry about it," he shot back.

"You're supposed to remind me."

"And you're supposed to be home at a decent hour so I can, but I guess neither of us are perfect." I didn't like the way he was looking at me, as if he knew what I'd done and was waiting for a confession.

"Stop accusing me!" I shouted. Somewhere inside I knew I was overreacting, but I couldn't stop myself. The anger and fear were pouring out. "Maybe I shouldn't have stopped to help Mike, maybe I should've left him there all sick like that. Would that make you happy? Would forty extra-fucking-minutes make you feel better?"

"Yes."

I punched the wall. "Motherfuck!" I hadn't expected to take out my anger on the drywall, much less put a hole through it, but my knuckles were skinned and bleeding.

Carlisle bounded up the stairs. "Are you okay?"

"You think I can't take care of myself?" I pushed him away and stumbled up the stairs. "You think I'm weak and I need help," I said, "but you're terrified to think that I might actually be okay. For _once, _I'm fine."

"Jasper, let me look at your hand."

My hand didn't matter. It would be fine. I clutched it to my chest as I backed away. "And I don't need your goddamn pills," I continued. The wall, the look on Carlisle's face... it felt surreal. In a way, it didn't exist because it would be gone in the morning and everything would be okay. Reality didn't feel like this.

"Please." Carlisle was speaking carefully now, edging up the stairs toward me. "Please don't do this again."

The doubt caught up with me. It always did. No matter how fast I ran, I'd never been able to escape myself for long. I never wanted to be a bad person. It just came naturally to me the same as breathing had. Still, I didn't like the reminder. It made me feel sick to my stomach. "Just... leave me alone."

Surprisingly, he stepped back and held up his hands. "I didn't mean that you couldn't take care of yourself. It's just my job."

I understood that, but something inside me didn't care. I turned and walked away.

/MI\

I chain-smoked in front of my bedroom window and watched the smoke curl out into the night. I couldn't sleep. Even though my room looked the same, it felt different. My bed felt wrong. The floor felt wrong. The fucking _air _felt wrong. I found myself unable to shake the feeling that something had shifted while I was gone. I was a fool for not noticing the change. My skin crawled.

I lit another cigarette, but it didn't help and I knew nothing would. _This will be gone in the morning, _I thought, even though I knew it wouldn't. No, this feeling wouldn't leave until I found its source. A chill raced up my spine as I looked around the room.

I inspected a throw pillow, dusted it off and threw it against the far corner where it hit the wall and fell onto my bed. I picked up the second and tested the stuffing but found nothing; it was as empty as the first. I threw it away.

As I reached for another, frenzy took hold. I began to move faster, desperate to find the source, knowing I wouldn't be able to rest until I found it. I tore up the throw rugs and pulled down the wall hangings and the curtains. I gathered all the clothes from my dresser and closet into a pile and went through each item before tossing it into the corner until fabric draped off my bed and spilled across the floor. I climbed onto my desk and leafed through all the books that never moved from the shelf above it then dropped them to the floor. Next went the CDs and DVD, then the assorted bric-a-brac. I stepped down and pulled out my dresser, but there was nothing beneath it but dust. I stripped my television of its cellophane wrapping and sat beside it in the middle of the floor as I tried to figure out what I was missing.

The answer was obvious. _Junk. _Junk was my solution when my brain and my heart disagreed. When I wanted something I shouldn't have. When I acted in ways I swore I never would. When I broke sincere promises. When my world was in conflict, junk lessened the crippling anxiety and made the world certain again; it took me away from the chaos and put me in a state of mind where I could observe without breaking down.

A cool night breeze swept through the open window. I shivered and looked at my alarm clock and, though I saw the time, it struck me that I'd plugged the clock in even though that particular model had a battery pack. _Why had I done that?_ It occurred to me. _By God, I'm a genius._ I hadn't even remembered.

I crawled to my bedside table and fumbled desperately for the clock. I hated this clock. It was ugly, and the only alarms it offered were _Beep 1 _and _Beep 2_; both grated on my last nerve. I yanked it out of the wall with a feeling of satisfaction, hoping that I'd maimed the plug-in beyond repair. At the very least, it would have been the perfect hiding place. I flipped it over and popped open the battery compartment.

_Empty._

I threw the clock at my window, but it crashed into the sill and bounced back into the room. I nearly screamed in rage. Nothing I did came out properly. I grabbed a fistful of hair into my hands and thought hard. My breath heaved. I breathed too deeply, overloading my body until I felt dizzy. The anger was still there.

I stood and gripped the door handle harder than necessary. My heart pounded. I had to get out, to walk away; it was the only thing stopping me from destroying everything I owned. I opened the door, passed Alice's room and walked downstairs. I could turn on the television, but the thought of noise didn't appeal to me so I bypassed the living room for the kitchen.

The room was clean and smelt like cleaner. I wanted comfort, and I had none. Still, I switched on the light and walked into the room. I breathed deep. For an instant it smelled like home, like cinnamon and yeast rising in the bread bowl back in Texas. It was absurd, of course, because that was a persistent memory from years before and I didn't live with Rose or my mother any more.

I searched the counters for alcohol. Any kind would have done. Vodka. Cooking wine. Rubbing alcohol. But no, they kept the shelves tame to the point that if Edward had a headache or if Alice was cramping they had to ask an adult for the key to the drug shelf. There was no need to ask whether that was my fault. I was such a fucking inconvenience.

The refrigerator was full of strategically placed messages. They meant something more than the normal "I'm going to the store" bullshit. Recycling routes, garbage schedules, take-out food menus and business cards dotted its exterior. I picked up Andalano's business card and dialed.

I needed help. I waited as his office line rang and went to voicemail. "Andy, it's…" I took a breath and laughed nervously, "it's your favorite patient. Listen, Carlisle and I had a fight like-" I checked the kitchen clock above the entryway and groaned- "_fuck_, like five hours ago. I'm confused real bad, and I don't know what to do and no one is here to make it go away. I feel fucked up five sheets to the wind. It doesn't make sense." Neither did the message I was leaving.

I didn't know what else to add. I hadn't planned any of that outburst anyway. Hopefully he wouldn't recognize the sound of my voice. I hung up the phone.

/MI\

The world was loud, sharp, brilliant; it flowed around me, but nothing felt real. I walked through the storm unscathed, wondering whether I'd woken up at all. Perhaps I was still in bed and dreaming or, worse, hooked up to tubes in a hospital. Perhaps this was a hallucination.

Bella came over as I sat on the curb in front of the school. I'd skipped our usual breakfast meet-up, and now she wanted to talk. Her face was twisted into an ugly expression, and her eyes were red. It took her a minute to come out with it. "Are we okay?"

I held the cigarette in my hand close to my face and stared at it. The glowing ember looked like something out of a movie. Panic struck me that the world could go on all vivid and hyper-realistic forever. I shook the thought out of my head and put the cigarette out on the inside of my wrist. "It didn't hurt," I said, holding out my arm to her.

She looked sick. "Geez, Jasper, if you're mad at me about yesterday just say it. Don't try to upset me because you know I'm squeamish. That just …" she searched for the proper wording. "It's _disturbed_."

I hadn't intended to upset her, but now that she'd called me disturbed I almost felt vindicated. When I didn't rise to her taunt, she continued. "You can't keep giving me hints and taking them back," she said. "You make me feel like a sexual predator, but I _know _you're not stupid enough to misunderstand an invitation upstairs."

She blamed me. _Fuck her_, I thought. I'd explained before that I didn't do anything I didn't mean. It's just that once I'd changed my mind I believed in the opposite just as wholeheartedly. I'd done the right thing, and if anybody had the problem it was her for wanting to sleep with someone like me in the first place. She wasn't going to use her problems to guilt me into doing what she wanted. I inspected the ashy burn on my wrist, which was already oozing, and said nothing.

"And don't say you love me when you don't mean it," she finished, her voice cracking. "It makes me feel like the world's biggest idiot."

I looked up as she wiped her eyes. I hadn't been lying, but I didn't say that. I didn't say anything. I let her go and watched as she walked away, turned the corner. I just knew she was headed toward my brother.

/M\

Carlisle didn't waste any time when he picked me up in front of the school that afternoon. "They brought Mike in last night with stomach pains," he said, looking for a while the car was stopped. "It's looking more and more like someone beat him up."

I grunted. "I should've known someone put the boot to him." I watched the street go by for a moment then turned back to him. "I mean, ass kickings are my area of expertise; I oughtta recognize it in someone else, right?"

Carlisle made a noncommittal sound.

I sighed heavily and reclined the passenger's seat. "I should go see him."

"I can take you tomorrow morning when I go in."

I was surprised. "You're not worried I did it?"

"I talked to his parents. And I don't think you're stupid enough to introduce yourself to them if you were involved." He gave me a pointed look.

I chuckled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

He brushed the gratitude off, and I was grateful for it. "Just a part of my job."

Andalano wanted to speak with Carlisle for ten minutes before I was allowed into the room. I fidgeted during the wait, sure they were going over the message I'd left. I wanted to kick myself for leaving it, but it had seemed appropriate at the time.

Carlisle patted my shoulder as we passed each other in the hall.

"Feeling any better this afternoon?" my doctor asked as I took my seat.

I rubbed my forehead. "I took my meds. It's improving."

"Carlisle said you wouldn't take them last night."

"Well, I'm feeling better now." I scratched my neck and rested my head in my hands.

"He also said that you were touchy when he mentioned Bella, so why don't you tell me what brought out that outburst."

It was hard not to grimace or deflect as I told him what had happened. I mentioned dinner and breezed through our studying at the table – it had felt so natural, so peaceful and easy – before I explained what happened next. "I don't understand. I just – I panicked, and I couldn't shake it."

Andalano made a note and looked up. "Did you talk to her about it?"

The burn on my wrist itched. I fought the urge to scratch it. "Of course. Do I look like a fucking idiot?" He looked at me as if the answer to that should be obvious. I moved on. "I keep trying, but she's mad at me and I don't have a way to make her see things how they are."

"How things really are?"

"She called me distant!" I fumed as I recalled her words the night before. "Doc, I'm so close I can smell fucking strawberries in my sleep. I think about her. I dream about her and then she's there when I wake up. How is that distant?"

"Do you think you're moving too fast?"

I ran my hands through my hair. "Shit, doc, I don't know. You tell me."

"I'm not here to tell you what to do- just to help you tell yourself. Think of me like Jiminy Cricket on your shoulder."

"You're a bit big for that."

"Following you around, poking you with my walking stick," he amended. I smiled. That sounded about right.

"So how's school?" he asked, switching attacks.

"I'm studying and sucking up to the teachers, running errands and volunteering to take homework to classmates. Shit like that, but it's doubtful it'll help." I shook my head. The more I thought about it the more I wished Bella was in my other classes. My jaw clicked. "My final biology project got an A. I'll pull through that one with a D."

/MI\

Chief Swan's squad car was parked in the driveway when we got home. The Chief, leaning against the driver's side door, straightened as the car rolled into sight. My heart raced.

"Carlisle, I didn't do this." I prodded him anxiously in the shoulder. "You _know _I didn't do it."

He reassured me as the car slowed to a halt. I wanted a place to hide, but Chief Swan had already seen me. I could force the car into reverse and floor it – Carlisle was already stepping out of the car. I fumbled for the door, choked on the fastened safety belt and stumbled from the car after him a minute later.

"Good evening Mr. Cullen, Mr. Hale." I swear he paused extra long on my name. I held the door between us. My knuckles were white. "Mr. Cullen, do you mind if I talk with your son here a moment?"

"Is he in trouble?" The edge on Carlisle's voice was unmistakable.

"I'm not here to bring him in, if that's what you're asking." Chief Swan stood taller and seemed to expand. His hands moved instinctively to his hips as he uncrossed his arms. The power dynamic shifted. "You're welcome to stay," he allowed graciously. Carlisle looked at me. I nodded vigorously.

"Mike Newton was admitted to the hospital this morning." He paused, waiting to catch my reaction with some preternatural cop sense.

"I know – I mean, Carlisle told me." I moistened my lips. "And I figured as much. He looked real sick last night."

"By chance I mentioned this to my daughter, them being friends and all, and she suggested _you _might have an idea what happened. Care to venture a guess?"

I'd known she was mad at me, but I hadn't expected this. My chest constricted. The betrayal hurt. "She said that?"

He nodded carefully, neither confirming nor denying. It was just a nod, a calculated gesture to get me talking.

I took a shaky breath and summarized the conversation we'd had days earlier. "But she told me to drop it. So I did."

"Just like that? She told you to and you did?" Even Carlisle was studying my face now.

"It may surprise you, but I generally do what Bella wants," I said, feeling defensive. "I don't want to piss her off, do I?"

He grunted, another of those noncommittal filler noises that cops must pick up during training. Under other circumstances the thought of a room full of grunting trainees would have made me laughed. But now Chief Swan was looking through the notes he'd taken from earlier interviews. "Did you see anyone near the store last night?"

_Had I?_ I closed my eyes and thought hard. I recalled the stillness, the trees, the grit of asphalt beneath my feet. There was the light scent of butane, sharp inhalation of smoke, _thump _of my fist against his body. My eyes snapped open.

"Some guy walking his dog," I improvised, elaborating when Chief Swan asked for more details. "Um, normal guy with a jacket. The dog was kinda big, like, to his knees – did you ask Mike any of this yet?"

"Only family allowed in the ICU," said Chief Swan in his patronizing police tone as he finished jotting notes and put his notepad away. "I'll catch him in a couple days when they move him."

My eyes widened. I looked to Carlisle. "You didn't tell me it was that bad," I said accusingly.

He shrugged. "It never came up."


	59. What Just Happened?

59.

Andalano's office felt uncomfortably still when I walked into it on Monday, like a crypt that hadn't been opened in centuries. I breathed deep as I took my seat, reminding myself that it was the stale breath of the undisturbed weekend air causing my anxiety - this wasn't a Bela Lugosi film, after all, and I could hardly picture _any _vampire wanting to turn him.

He seemed on top of the week's activities so we didn't rehash that night. Just as well. I kept dreaming of Mike lying in an alley of broken glass, the nightmares so vivid that I always woke with my chest burning and a scream stuck in my throat.

I ran a hand through my blond hair, grateful he didn't want to broach the subject either. My hair, usually a tangled mop, hung lank and just a bit too oily. I wiped my hand on my pants and looked up to Andalano who sat patiently.

"Remember how you wanted to change my meds?" A certain mixture of bitterness and anticipation sang in my voice as I spoke. I hated how the excitement crept in, filling my nervous humility with an ulterior motive that no one could mistake. "I'm starting to think it's not working. Maybe... maybe you're right about that – about me."

Andalano looked at me lengthily, sizing me up, before he sighed. "I thought you might say that." He opened his center drawer and dug through its contents. I leaned over the desk, curious what he was up to. He pulled out a red rubber band and handed it to me.

"Thanks?" I wrapped it around my fingertips and flexed, watching the rubber thin as it expanded. It was an amusement, at least.

He called it my trigger band. The idea was that I wear it around my wrist for the week and snap it when I felt overwhelmed. It seemed silly and unorthodox. I slipped it over my wrist where it stayed, hidden beneath the cuffs of my shirt.

God knows I needed a distraction that wasn't self-imposed, one that didn't make things worse for me. My hand was still swollen and a little stiff from where I'd punched the wall. I didn't like thinking about it - not because Mike had been an innocent victim but more because I'd screamed lies at Carlisle when he was just trying to do his job.

And still, when the police came to question me, Carlisle believed I hadn't done it. The only people who knew the truth were my victim and myself. I kept wondering how could they be so blind. Who would believe a habitual liar? And, what did it say about me that I was so good at deception?

The answers to my questions never came, and the week sped by.

/MI\

I dreamed that I was swimming a rough sea and the prow of great ghost ship blotted out the night sky so I lost sight of land. The ship's bulk loomed overhead, inescapable and filled with familiar faces. They smiled and beckoned, but their eyes were black hollows that seemed to suck the light out of the air. My nerve shook in sight of it, and in my dream I was suddenly sinking into blackness, the cold water pulling me under...

I woke in a foul mood that wouldn't go away. My family noticed and tried to avoid me. I couldn't really blame them; when I wasn't studying or practicing guitar I was being a bastard to anybody that crossed my path.

And there was nowhere to turn for relief. Edward remained busy after school enjoying the humid summer air with his teammates. Alice was practically absent, her time consumed with gallery details and shopping trips that, if not including Esme, necessitated a different female sidekick. She chose my girlfriend, of course; they were becoming tight friends.

I was relieved that Alice took Bella because it spared me from her nervous hovering while I tried to concentrate on the music. How many songs did I have? How long were they? Would that be enough? Did I need a microphone – _if so, she could get me_ _one _– and could she see the playlist?

Alice was asking me all these questions at lunch Wednesday. I was trying to eat the cafeteria's broccoli salad, but it felt as if she asked another question every time I lifted my fork. My hands were shaking and I would have gone bald pulling out my hair if Bella hadn't suddenly martyred herself.

"Alice, didn't you say you were going Port Angeles tonight?" Bella asked, cutting Alice off midsentence. "I just remembered I don't have anything to wear to the gallery. Do you mind if I come shopping with you?"

Alice blinked, her eyes growing wide with unmistakable adoration. Edward looked up from his notebook, his face screwed up in confusion as if questioning Bella's sanity. I took the opportunity to steal his orange Jell-O.

I wanted to pull Bella into a hug and thank her for getting Alice off my back, but she was distant ever since the Mike Newton incident. I didn't know how she would react to sudden bursts of affection, so I caught her eye and smiled instead. She turned back to her notes.

The not knowing was worse than if she'd just come out and broken up with me. I could understand not being good enough, but this... I deserved to know, but she just sat there studying and shushed me when I tried to ask or began explaining myself. Her rejection didn't just hurt; it burned through me like acid.

Carlisle kept a watchful eye on me and had been for days. Wherever I went he seemed to be only one room away engrossed in a book or an unnecessary home improvement project. When I confronted him about this Wednesday afternoon outside the music room he feigned surprise and invited me to shadow him at work.

I blinked at him, suspicion washing over me as it usually did when people did nice things for me. He stood waiting, his mouth curved on one side into a disarming smile with his tape measure in one hand and a hammer in the other. It took me a minute to realize there was nothing more to his offer and he was waiting for _me._

"I should be practicing," I hedged.

Carlisle looked past me to where the guitar lay out and surrounded by cushions. It hadn't moved since I'd excused myself downstairs almost half an hour ago. "Maybe you'd like a change of scenery?" he suggested.

I pursed my lips thoughtfully. Part of me wanted to go. But ever since I'd agreed to play at Alice's gallery opening the room had become my Bat Cave, cold subterranean atmosphere and all. In a strange way, I missed sunlight and trees and that constant, alien smell of petrichor that surrounded you as soon as you opened the front door.

"Research shows memory benefits from periods of rest between studies," Carlisle said as if reading my mind.

I smiled. Leave it to Carlisle to resort to scientific evidence to persuade me. Unable to come up with an acceptable comeback, I accepted his invitation. A change might be good for me.

Carlisle must have felt guilty about our fight the week before because he set me up at his office desk with my medicine and enough money to feed the vending machine until Judgment Day. It was a small room with a wraparound desk against the far wall and a couch against the near one. A houseplant rested in the corner, drooping sadly.

I stayed put at first because the look of surprise on people' faces when they saw me instead of Carlisle was priceless. Most were polite. I offered the nurses candy from the pile of vending machine junk food and chatted with the few who accepted. I made some friends and learned that Mike had been moved out of ICU earlier that day.

After the novelty wore off I snooped through Carlisle's papers for prescription pads. Finding nothing, I checked his desk drawers and found them locked. Sighing, I picked up my notebook and started wandering the halls. Forks General isn't a big place. Most serious emergency room patients are sent to the county emergency center, so it only took me fifteen minutes to find Mike's name on the patient roster. I followed the signs to the room he was sharing with a logger who had, of all things, crushed his lower leg in a car accident.

It was after hours. The lights were off, but the divider curtains were open and the television was still turned onto reality TV. I drew the divider between the roommates and dragged the visitors' chair out of sight of the doorway and closer to Mike's bed.

He was reclining, his eyelids nearly closed as the dull sounds of the television and IV drip lulled him to sleep. I sat down and switched on the table lamp, scattering over half a dozen "Get Well" cards onto the floor in the process.

"Does everything in this room squeak?" I demanded.

Mike's eyes flew open and roamed until he spotted me sitting beside him. The hospital hadn't been good for him. His pale skin was pallid in the lamplight and his shadowed eyes had sunken into his face. I could see the painkillers at work in them as he looked around for reinforcements.

"What're you doing here? Visiting hours are over," he said. His voice was hoarse. He tried to pull himself up but winced.

"Don't, you'll pull a fucking kidney trying to sit up like that!" I slapped the bed control into his hand. "Use it." He did.

I opened my notebook and handed him the review sheets I'd volunteered to take over. He looked at the papers and back at me. "What do you want?"

I lowered my voice. "Bella thinks I had something to do with you being in the hospital."

"And?"

"You're going to make sure she knows I didn't," I said, leaning forward. "She'll never believe it from me, so you have to tell Chief Swan about the guy who tried to rob the store that night."

"Why should I?" he asked, but he already knew the answer. His Adam's apple bobbed. He looked at the sheath of paper I'd just placed into his lap.

I kicked my feet up onto his bed and flipped through my notes until I found a page I liked. "You know, if you get released before Friday you ought to consider going to Alice's gallery reception," I said absently. "And bring Jessica. It can be a date."

"Okay." He sounded uncomfortable. I smiled to myself and began to read.

/MI\

Esme picked me up from school early on Friday. I protested – had been since Thursday, really – because leaving early meant missing lunch missing my last chance to talk to Bella. Esme said it was so we had enough time to get ready, but I didn't see how it could take six hours to change clothes. Then again, she'd warned me that Alice was coming with us so I shouldn't have been surprised when it actually took that long.

The car ride itself was difficult. I blame Alice. While she's normally a bundle of nerves and excitement, I was unprepared for her current energy level. It made my chest tight and my hands shaky. I must've reached for my cigarettes a hundred times, each time remembering that Carlisle had a strict no-smoking policy just as my fingers found the pack. I turned on my MP3 player, leaned my forehead against the window and focused on my breathing.

I found myself wishing for Bella. We hadn't talked all week and, ever since I misplaced my phone, the separation meant something. She hadn't even called my home phone. I stared out the window, watching the dull gray sky. I wanted to resent Bella for leaving me but found myself rationalizing her behavior. What teenage girl asked for a boyfriend who couldn't even kiss her without getting a complex?

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense that she would dip her toes into the pool and find the current too rough. I wished my mind didn't move in jumps and starts so I could be what she needed. I would do anything she wanted to keep her – but maybe keeping her wasn't enough. Or maybe, like Andalano said, I was over-thinking the situation.

Esme turned in her seat and put a hand on my knee. "How are you feeling?" she asked as I removed my earbuds. The energetic guitar strumming fell away, replaced by the local classic rock station.

I couldn't meet her gaze. My throat tightened, and I took a deep breath to restore my confidence. "I could be better," I admitted. "I could be worse, too."

She didn't know what to make of that. Neither did I, frankly. Esme turned around but left her hand on my knee in case I needed it. _Have I ever mentioned how much I love her?_

Carlisle parked his car in the lot just down street from the gallery and helped me unpack the trunk while the girls walked ahead. He handed me my guitar in its new soft case, which I slung over my shoulder. A drizzle fell, cooling the brisk night air. The light breeze blowing from the harbor filled the air with salt and gave the street a magical quality.

He turned to go but I held him back. "Carlisle, I didn't –" I left off, choosing to tap my temple instead of say the words.

"Hold on a sec." Carlisle set my box of wires on top of the trunk and rummaged around in the passenger's seat for a moment. He emerged with a water bottle, the metallic kind with a logo that corporations keep giving to their workers. I read the logo – _United North-Pacific Healthcare_ – while he put a hand into his breast pocket and produced my medicine.

The jangling clash of my nerves calmed with a swallow and finally I felt halfway prepared for the night ahead.

/MI\

Carlisle pulled ahead as we caught up and Esme stopped in front of the building. She whipped out a camera and turned on us as Alice linked arms with me and smiled brightly. The first photo had to be my surprised expression; the second was us grinning at each other like fools. And then she tugged me through the front door.

The gallery was different than I'd imagined. In my head, I'd created a cafe setting with dim lighting so I could hide myself away in a corner. The crowd ordered extra-spicy chai lattes and milled around in a decidedly bohemian air. But the real gallery was much larger. It boasted high white walls and a floating staircase in the far corner that twisted upward to a balcony ringed with stainless steel mountings. Dark blue cloth had been wound through the railing and draped regally over the sides, tempering the gleam of light off the brilliant walls and polished wooden floors. This was modern elegance that would draw a city crowd.

I swallowed hard and looked for the musician's setup where I would spend the night. I spotted the microphone and stool tucked unassumingly in a corner and fled to it immediately. But I hardly had time to unload my equipment before Alice pulled me into the center of the room.

I laughed at the blazing excitement in her eyes as she turned me slowly so I could take in all the pieces mounted on the walls. I looked, and my heart swelled with pride. Colors emerged with every turn, first as highlights then taking over the pictures. The work grew more detailed, more elaborate. The media mixed, the hand steadied and the artist emerged. The artwork was more than beautiful; it told Alice's story. I doubted many people would see the progression from dark pigments and silhouettes in red to the final, pastel sunsets.

I walked the perimeter now, looking closely at each one. The earlier pieces were ominous. Even the trees and cacti looked like figments out of a bloodshot nightmare. The shapes were rough, the harsh lines drawn jagged.

And this one, the first ray of hope on the wall, was a splash of gold in the dark. The subject cut roughly through the blackness holding a red instrument against its chest. Crimson spilled up the figure in dramatic streaks that made me rub my writs reflexively. Then it grew lighter and faded into soft gold detailing. I recognized this one. She'd been working on it the first day we met.

It was me.

I traced the air above the first drawing of me, amazed that she'd put it on display. And she'd placed it close to my guitar stand in a way that made the corner project itself upon attendees. _"This is important!"_ it screamed.

"It's beautiful," I managed, my voice choked, and pulled her into a hug. I could never thank Alice enough for all the tiny ways she reminded me that I mattered. I drew a deep breath and tried to keep it steady. I failed.

Alice pulled away first. She pinched my cheek and wrinkled her nose up in a way that always made me break a smile. "It's just cookies and milk, Jazz," she said.

Then the gallery manager appeared and whisked me away to untangle my cables and fine tune the audio. When I looked back, Alice was already busy talking to someone else.

Patrons trickled in steadily, lured by the upstart artist in their midst. I could hear the hum of conversation building but kept my eyes down and focused on my guitar. I didn't want to see how many people were in the building.

I started quietly, getting a feel for the acoustics. My fingers picked the notes carefully, building the harmony until the melody turned to song. First I played _Spanish Romance_, its tone mournful and passionate and raw as my fingers remembered the guitar strings. And as the song faded into a stronger tango I found myself singing low, my voice low and scratchier than Carlos Gardel ever sang. But it didn't matter because soon my fingers were strumming through Neil Young's _Don't Let it Bring You Down_ and …

The manager tapped my shoulder a third of the way through the evening, startling me back to reality. The crowd – pressed close together about 100 strong - was gathering near the staircase as I packed my guitar and looked around the room. I spotted several classmates and a stray art teacher or two intersperse amongst them.

I couldn't see Bella. She'd been intent on attending since Alice first announced the opening, but the event was well underway and she wasn't here yet. Her absence reminded me that we hadn't really talked for over a week, and I missed her acutely.

From across the room I spotted Emmett and Rose. They weren't easy to miss. My big brother is about 250 pounds of muscle. He's built like a tank so he always commands a refreshing amount of personal space in a crowd. Rose, rocking dangerously high heels and a bright red dress, stood next to him at eyelevel. I poured myself a glass of water and made my way through the crowd, squeezing through the suits and cocktail dresses until I reached them.

He picked me up in a bear hug that lifted me from my feet and just about crushed my ribcage. I gasped out a breath as he let me drop back to the floor, laughing.

"I haven't heard you play in ages," he said. He clapped me on the back so hard I almost fell forward. "How did little sis shanghai you into doing all this?" He asked while I greeted my sister.

_For starters, she hadn't told me what the job entailed_, I thought but held my tongue.

"Actually, Bella asked me." I scanned the room, unable to spot my girlfriend. _She should be here already,_ a little voice in my head whispered. A knot coiled in my stomach at the thought. I drifted out of the crowd but Rose turned me around and pointed me toward Alice.

"_Listen_," she whispered into my ear, so I did.

Alice stood on the stairwell's lowest step, the soft fabric of her cream-colored dress swishing around her shins. All eyes were on her as she accepted a microphone.

I was impressed by her poise. She talked about the peninsula and how much it meant to her. She thanked her teachers by name - I couldn't even name half of mine. She thanked her parents and her siblings, and then she thanked her best friend who had been with her as long as she could remember and who had provided the evening's soundtrack. It took me a minute to realize she – and everyone else in the fucking room – was looking at me.

I smiled and raised a hand in a sheepish wave. "Howdy."

Alice beamed down at me. "He's too shy to admit it, but I couldn't have done this without his support."

My cheeks colored under the attention. I looked at my feet. Emmett put an arm around my shoulder and gave me a warped macho hug that felt more like a paint shaker. I turned into his shoulder feeling slightly queasy.

"Did you know about this?" I muttered.

He shook his head. "But they always have a talk at things like this."

Esme and Carlisle squeezed toward us through the crowd. Esme, her arm linked in Carlisle's, was elegant in a coral dress and nude heels. They looked like newlyweds midway through a night out on the town. She smiled brilliantly and threw her arms around me.

Then I caught a glimpse of Bella across the room and froze. She stood beside Edward at the entrance watching the crowd. But, damn, if she wasn't gorgeous. She'd pulled her hair back away from her face and opted to apply makeup.

I smiled and tried to catch her attention, but Edward took her by the elbow and led her into the crowd. I disentangled myself from Esme and tried to follow. Emmett intercepted me.

He tilted his head in the direction they'd disappeared. "Trouble in paradise?"

I frowned. "I don't know."

"Want me to find out?" he offered, the jovial light gone from his eyes. He was concerned.

I saw Rose watching and shook my head. "No, I'll –" I checked my watch and saw my break had ended –"I'll figure it out."

He grunted, obviously displeased. I patted his shoulder and, applying a careful smile, slipped away.

My mind raced ten miles a minute, but with a final glance up at the crowd my eyes fell on Alice who was smiling at me through the crowd. I grinned, my fingertips suddenly feeling the music in the guitar strings. I closed my eyes and fell into the music. My fingers moved in quiet rhythm while my feet tapped to the beat. I hummed the tune to keep from singing because, sure enough, the lyrics always got stuck in my head when I played _Somewhere Over the Rainbow._

After I'd drawn it out long enough I switched songs, sliding into a fast paced version of _I'm a Believer_. And then, laughing, I burst into a one-man rendition of _Hotel Yorba _that brought out my faded Texan dialect and led me into a smoother folk song.

When I looked up again the gallery light stung my eyes. I set my guitar down and rubbed at my dry eyes. The buffet table looked popular still, so I didn't try to wade in for a drink. I felt overheated in the crowded room beneath the lights.

Instead, I fought my way through the thick mob of socialites and pushed myself through the rear exit, emerging in a deserted courtyard bordered in all sides with vine-covered brick walls. The rain had stopped, and now the night was cool. I stepped across the wet flagstone floor, loosening my tie, and found Bella sitting on a wrought iron bench in the far corner. She was playing with the fabric on her tiered blue dress and looked cold despite the white shawl she wore.

I sat beside her. "You okay?"

Bella motioned toward the gallery in a sweeping gesture. "It's just … It's a lot to compete with."

I looked around. Obviously I was missing the point. "Bella, talk to me. _Please._"

She shook her head in a motion that bounced her delicately curled hair and stood, crossing her arms. "It's nothing."

I wondered if _I _was that obvious when I claimed to be fine. She was a bad liar. _And where was all the hostility coming from?_

"Why won't you talk to me?" I asked, my voice rising.

"Because I see the way you and Alice look at each other!" she said. Her brown eyes were full of accusation.

My jaw almost dropped. I stood quickly. "What?"

"When I got here," she repeated. "I _saw_."

"_One _look," I corrected, shaking my head. "It was one look, and it's not even what you think."

But she wouldn't drop it. "All week, _all _she's talked about is you. She's worried because _you're _nervous, because _you _seem different. You, you, you!" Bella threw her hands into the air. "Tell me, why are you so damn important?" She winced as the last words tumbled out of her mouth but did not try to take them back.

"Maybe Alice has seen me in some bad places," I admitted, my voice more defensive than I would have liked, "and maybe she's worried because I'm not leaning on her shoulder anymore."

I'd wanted to talk with Bella all week, and the conversation was going all wrong. This was supposed to be the part where I told Bella how she made me feel, how I was leaning on _her _shoulder now, how my entire world was upside down and backwards and I didn't care because I had _her _to make it okay. I was supposed to be telling her I loved her, but all I felt toward her now was anger.

I was angry that she would throw my one solid friendship into question, angry that she changed all the rules without telling me and appropriated the people I cared about. I wondered where she'd been all those afternoons when she needed to study. _Was she lying to me? Was she with Edward? _I needed to know.

"Are you fucking my brother?" I demanded.

Her face darkened. "How dare you! What gives you the right?"

"What am I supposed to think?" I threw my hands in the air. "Y-you're out with him all the time, you avoid me… you show up late with him…" I trailed off with a shrug.

She shook her head. Her eyes blazed angrily in the lamplight. "God, I can't believe you." She turned for the door, and I knew I'd stepped over the line. _Shit._

"Bella-" I began and reached for her arm.

She cracked me across the face with a slap that snapped my head back. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of my chest. I stepped back in disbelief, too shocked to raise a hand to my face. Bella had hit me. I didn't know what to make of it; she'd never done that before. Maria hit me, not Bella. Bella was different – _or was I just that bad a judge of character?_

"I'm sorry," I said instinctively.

"Whatever you've got going on, you seriously need to get help for it because _this-"_ she gestured between us- "isn't working."

"But I _am_," I said, aghast. She knew that.

"You're using it for pretense. That's not the same."

She was acting as if I ran through life burning bridges behind me. How could I make her understand that my identity was based on trying to put those fires _out_? My jaw was tight. I didn't know what to do. I stepped back, my breath shaky, and snapped the rubber band around my wrist.

"Stop!" she shouted. "For God's sake, stop!" She reached up and, before I could fend her off, pulled the band off my arm. It broke. "You've been doing that all freaking week and I can't take it anymore!" She threw the broken band into the shrubs.

I looked after it, horrified but unable to process what was happening. My chest tightened. Not for the first time that night, I felt lightheaded. I touched a hand to my forehead. _ Am I losing it?_

It was entirely possible Bella was right about the band. My wrist felt bare without it as if I'd gone to war but forgotten my breastplate. I hadn't even noticed it through the week. Though my face smarted, I held my wrist to my chest and sat heavily, amazed that everything I touched could break so quickly.

When I looked up she was gone. I got up, feeling sick to my stomach, and headed back inside where a lingering group of art dealers was debating with one another. Bella wasn't there, but Emmett wandered over and offered me a plate of food. Like Esme he tended to think food solved everything, but I didn't think I could stomach mini quiche at the moment. I took the plate anyway and turned it in my hands.

"Bella leave?" I asked.

"Yeah, she asked Edward to drive her."

I sighed. _Of course she did._

Emmett studied my expression. When I didn't say anything, he picked an hors d'oeuvre from my plate and popped it into his mouth. "So, did you get to talk to her?"

I shook my head. "No," I lied. "I never found the time."


	60. Throw the Rules Out the Window

60.

The room was dark. Beyond the closed door I heard the familiar morning bustle. Alice shuffled toward the stairs in her slippers, the grippers making soft scuffing sounds across the wooden floor. Emmett shouted for Rose to hurry but clamored for the dining room too fast to catch her muffled retort from the bathroom. Edward's light feet dashed upstairs to his room. Drawers slammed open and shut, then his feet sprinted for the second bathroom to shower from his run.

Any other day it might have made me smile. But today I just wanted to fall back asleep and never wake up.

Alice's gallery reception was a tremendous success by all standards. The art dealers loved her work. Someone had even commissioned a piece. And after nearly a month of anxiety on my part, I had performed well enough that no one complained or threw up. Life had been good – until I'd lost my temper and insulted Bella.

Rosalie's quiet footsteps made their way to my door. She knocked, her tapping gentle enough not to wake me but insistent enough that I couldn't ignore her if I was awake – which meant she was going to come in. I closed my eyes.

The door opened, throwing a shard of light across the room, and my sister leaned in. "Jay," she called softly. "Jay, are you awake?"

I remained still and steadied my breathing. She waited in the open doorway for a minute longer before leaving with a sigh. The door closed behind her.

I didn't much feel like talking to Rose at the moment. My head still spun from what Bella said the night before, that I used my therapy sessions as pretense. I couldn't decide whether I was angry or just confused, and I'd been puzzling over it for what seemed to be all night.

Anger seemed appropriate – I went to therapy _for her _because it made me a person people could stand being around – but the rage was cut with something stronger that made my heart ache. I was changing_ for her,_ rewriting my lifestyle and personality _for her._ Couldn't she see that? Couldn't she see how much I cared?

Sometimes you gave and gave but got nothing back. My eyes burned, but I refused to allow the pain to spread from my chest. I rolled over and faced the wall.

Emmett burst into the room and plopped onto my bed, jolting me bodily. He plunked a mug on my bedside table and shook my shoulder.

"I knew you weren't sleeping," he said brightly as I muttered curses and propped myself up on my elbows. My body ached as if I run a marathon, and in a way I suppose I had.

I swiped his mug off the table and took a swig. _Orange juice. _ "Fuck off," I said, my voice raspy.

Emmett shrugged and fished into his pocket. "Pops wanted me to give you these." He held out my pills and watched curiously as I swallowed them. "Do they help?" he asked after a pause.

Sometimes the pills were the difference between calamity and serenity – but sometimes I wondered whether the effect worked too well - or worked at all. _Was I lying to myself by taking the pills? Did they make me someone I wasn't? Was any of it real? _ I looked into the mug.

"You'd have to define normal first," I replied.

He frowned thoughtfully. Then his eyes lit. "There is no spoon," he quoted with a faraway expression.

I put the empty cup down and sat up. "What?"

"Then you'll see that it is not the spoon that bends," he said, now looking at me gravely. "It is only yourself."

I groaned. "You're a dick," I said, still amused by his faithful movie reference.

He put a finger to my lips and nodded. "I know."

I tackled him off my bed. He lost balance and fell backward, laughing. We hit the floor hard, shaking what felt like the entire second floor. Emmett recovered first. He grabbed my upper arms, flipped me onto my back and pinned me there, pressing me down with one arm as if reclining on a sofa. His weight on my chest was enough to make breathing uncomfortable but not enough to suffocate.

"That was impressive," I wheezed.

He shook his head disappointedly. "You lost your edge."

"I'll... show you an edge," I challenged, but it was getting harder to breathe. I tapped out. Emmett let me up immediately.

Emmett surveyed the clothes heaps and piled debris, books and CD cases strewn about my room. He reached out, picked up my smashed alarm clock, and tried to snap one of the speakers back into place. He didn't ask me about it or say something sarcastic, but his face looked patiently puzzled as he set the broken clock down.

I could have told him I'd been trying to find something and Emmett would accept the answer unquestioningly. But I didn't feel like explaining myself to anyone today. My whole life was a continual stream of people prying into my business. If Emmett could accept unanswered curiosity then I intended to take advantage.

Surprisingly, no one had run upstairs at the crashing sound to check whether we were still breathing. Their lackadaisical reaction to our roughhousing made me nostalgic for when Emmett still lived with us. We just got a long. I can't explain why.

But now I didn't know what to say next. My conversation-starters were practically limited to therapy and failing everything else. Neither seemed like good bonding topics. I rested against my bed frame. My eyes fluttered closed.

Emmett got to his feet. I held out a hand, knowing without opening my eyes that he'd offer me aid. He hauled me to my feet and clapped me on the back. My eyes popped open again at the shaking force.

"Let's get your scrawny ass some breakfast," he said decisively.

I chuckled and did not resist.

/M\

The kitchen still showed signs of breakfast when I entered behind my brother. A tower of plates rose from the sink in an eggy, syrupy jumble. Half a dozen mugs dotted the countertop; as I watched Emmett picked one up, sniffed it and poured himself a cup of coffee. Shaking my head, I followed suit.

We ate leftovers warm from the oven. When I say we, I mean that I picked so slowly at the meal that Emmett speared away my plateful of eggs and potatoes one bite at a time. He was like a carrion bird without regard for whether his prey was still kicking. I'd never grumbled at him about this because his appetite eclipses my general disinterest in food, sparing me unwelcome limelight. Though I am over six feet tall I hide well in my big brother's shadow.

Here's something else you might have already gathered about Emmett: he's everyone's favorite family member, myself included. I'd always gotten along with him for his laid back attitude. While I knew that Emmett's life had _not _always been easy, it was difficult for me to imagine him as anything other than my approachable older brother with an energetic grin. He usually knew what to say when I was moody; if not he just quoted movies. We fought – for fun – with enough gusto to frighten the neighbors and rarely argued. Even _those_ verbal sparring matches weren't as psychologically trying as an average conversation with Edward.

When he was done eating we ambled over to the living room where Alice was watching the morning news on the floor by Esme and Carlisle. The foster parents shared the loveseat and Carlisle's steaming tea, which he rested on his leg between them. I looked away, once again embarrassed to intrude, and flopped onto the big couch beside Emmett and closed my eyes.

_What am I doing?_ I knew the answer – sitting at home, of course – but still the question's implication turned in my head, its gnawing repetition rolling in my stomach like a ball of worms. I felt like throwing up the small breakfast I'd choked down. Someone once said fears were meant to be conquered, and I guess he was right. But dread still rose from the pit of my gut when I thought about picking up the phone and calling Bella.

When I couldn't stand the anticipation any longer I flipped myself from the couch, marched into the kitchen and grabbed the cordless phone from its wall receiver. I took the stairs two at a time to my bedroom. I dialed. My fingers shook on the buttons, but I took a deep breath and ordered myself to calm long enough to finish entering her number.

She didn't answer her cell phone. Maybe she was on the other line. Maybe she was ignoring me. I hung up, waited thirty seconds and dialed again. This time she answered, her greeting none too enthusiastic.

"Bella, thank God," I said, letting out a breath. "I had to call, had to apologize. For last night."

Bella said nothing on the other end of the phone, but I heard her stuffy breathing. After a moment she said, "Jasper, I'm in the middle of talking to my mom, and I can't deal with this conversation right now." Her tone shifted and became quieter when she spoke again. "I'm sorry, but I need some time."

That wasn't the answer I had been expecting. I stopped pacing my bedroom floor as panic seized me. If I didn't speak with her now, then perhaps I wouldn't get the chance. "Please don't hang up," I said quickly. "Please don't. I was stressed out and I shouldn't have said – look, can I come over and talk with you?"

She hesitated before denying me. I could see her shaking her head into the receiver in my mind's eye. I imagined her face looked sad, but it could be happy or bitter for all I knew. But the unknowing was a dark and terrifying abyss.

"I just… I need to explain. _Please_."

"Explain why you accused me of sleeping with your brother?" Bella asked, her voice sharp. As usual she'd honed in on my defensive outburst, making it my weakest argument. "Because if that's it I'm not sure I'm ready to hear it."

She was pushing my buttons, and it worked. I felt my blood pressure rising. _No fair. _"This is ridiculous," I said, trying to back out of the fight that was coming. I'd already become its antagonist.

"Are you even _capable_ of admitting she's your sister?" Bella's voice had taken on a hysterical tone I'd never heard in her before but recognized immediately as a woman on the verge of tears. "Just tell me!"

"Then tell me you didn't have sex with my brother!" I roared so loud the phone crackled with static. She spat something back, but I hung up the phone and made to throw it against the wall. I stopped myself in time, dropped the phone and looked around impotently for something to take out my anger on. Finding my battered clock, I kicked it viciously with a bare foot. The kick sent my clock flying into the wall and tore a toenail. I dropped to the floor and cradled my foot, cursing loudly.

I didn't really think Bella slept with Edward, but my subconscious had dragged it into the fray as a half-assed attempt at rebutting her. I'd never seen any real evidence to back up my suspicions aside from friendship and people could be friends without sexual tension. Edward knew I would tear him apart limb from limb if he made a move. Besides, he would probably give Bella a blood test first on the off chance she'd picked up a disease by touching something inside my room.

I hobbled to the bathroom and sat on the floor with a pair of nail clippers and the brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide. I cleaned and bandaged the broken toenail then sat a moment, resting my back against the tub where I'd cracked open my head in the not-too-distant past. It seemed so long ago but the stitches were just dissolving now.

Maybe this was what Bella meant when she said we didn't work. I was fucked in the brain. My emotional relay acted more like a wall of raw wires, I'd seen more horror stories than Stephen King's dream journal and I'd expressed it all freely around her. She'd seen me high, bloody… hell, she'd even seen me lose it completely in Seattle – but I couldn't understand why she hadn't run screaming from any of _those_ things. No, I shared my deepest fears with the girl and it turns out she thought I was being distant.

_Why, because I kept my distance? Because I don't want to use her or hurt Rose or- _I cut myself off, fuming, before I could admit I was just scared. I mean, God, what if she saw my scars and recoiled? What if that was the last straw before she finally understood that I was a Bad Person?

Andalano said my strict rules kept me sane _and _endangered my mental balance. Since he had several degrees I supposed he might have a point. But even if others forgave me it didn't mean I'd been right. And even if Rose forgave me, it wasn't right for me to give up a promise just for the chance at happiness. The last thing I wanted to be was a sellout.

I climbed to my feet and limped down the stairs. Rosalie met me halfway and paused on the step below mine. She wore a pair of oversized sweat pants and a loose t-shirt covered in axle grease. I regarded her, searching for anything dangerous hidden behind her playful smile and crossed arms.

"I'm missing tools," she declared, her tone suggesting she already knew they were gone and I had no chance of hiding behind platitudes.

"I lent them to someone," I admitted. "To Bella's friend. He's fixing up an old Volkswagen Rabbit."

Rosalie shifted her weight. Her expression, easily read, fell somewhere between irritated and impressed. She settled on exasperation.

"Jasper, some of that stuff is expensive!" She threw her hands up.

I grimaced and stepped around her, but she turned and kept pace. Glancing sideways, I saw her frown and my heart sank. I felt horrible for letting Jacob borrow her tools. Rosalie spent her money with extreme caution. Every purchase was carefully weighed, lengthily deliberated and considered an investment.

I didn't like seeing her upset. "I'll get them back," I promised quickly. "I just – I wanted help with a project, and I thought …" I trailed off with a shrug. The only thing I'd been thinking about when I'd agreed to this was _Bella. _

"What kind of project?" she quizzed. We were in the foyer now, and I followed her into the garage to be out of earshot.

"A motorcycle," I whispered.

She raised both eyebrows but said nothing immediately insulting about the idea. "Interesting."

That perked my interest. I looked at her, my eyes big. "You think?"

She nodded. "I've never rebuilt a motorcycle engine before. Can I see it?"

"I still need to pick it up," I said with a nervous laugh. "I didn't want Bella to get upset. I don't think she likes bikes."

"Bella, huh?" Rosalie leaned against her tool chest and rested her toned arms lazily on the bench behind her. "I heard it's not 'just friends' anymore."

I fidgeted with a stray bolt as the tips of my ears reddened. I was uncomfortable having this conversation with my sister. We didn't have an average brother-sister relationship and pretending otherwise felt impossible. It's why I never asked her about Emmett. And, Hell, I didn't even know what my relationship status would be in six hours.

"I guess," I mumbled.

She looked at me intently, trying to catch my gaze even as I evaded hers. "Is she good for you?"

Instinct screamed to snap at her question, but reason overrode with a persistent whisper. Rose's tone was curious, not condescending. Her concern was genuine; I knew she would have asked Edward the same question. I traced a line across the gritty garage floor with my bandaged toe.

"She makes me feel crazy," I said, grinning to myself. "Maybe in a normal way."

I helped Rosalie rearrange her workshop for the better part of an hour. We talked about irrelevant things like baseball and seasonal fashions before winding our way back to last night's gallery reception.

"So what _do_ you think of Bella?" I asked, bending to pick up an overflowing tool box. I grunted. It was heavier than it looked.

Rosalie barely slowed her industrious efforts to clean the tool cabinet. She shrugged. "It's really not my business to say."

I shuffled to the counter and set the box down. It slipped the last inch and landed with a heavy _thunk _that sent a groan through the table's metal joints. I wiped my hands, confused by her response. "Out of anyone I thought you would have the _most _to say."

I missed my sister, but moments like this remind me why I avoid her. Rose's face had frozen in a carefully blank expression, a porcelain replica of her face devoid of emotion. She was in pain, and I couldn't help but think I'd caused it.

"Jay-" she began.

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. This might not be something I wanted to hear. Rose had always been like a guard dog for me. When we moved to Forks she made sure I had space to breathe at the high school. She kept people from getting too close, from upsetting my balance. But now she was gone, too, and I'd learned to cope.

I surveyed her chaotic workspace and saw happily that I could do no more. "I'll get Em to drive me to Jake's house."

Emmett, as it turned out, was more than happy to drive me in exchange for a milkshake at the local ice cream hut. We stopped on the way to pick up the motorcycle I'd told Rosalie about, and by the time we were south out of Forks the sky glowered behind the clouds, enfolding the thick foliage into dusky gloom. Only mid-afternoon, it already felt like twilight as we turned onto the Reservation and rumbled up to Jake's house.

I hopped from the truck and walked up the ramp to the front door. The lights in the small house were on, and I heard a sports game playing inside. Doubt gnawed at my innards. Sam had made it clear what would happen if he ever saw me again. While I didn't think he could actually do any damage with my big brother waiting in the car, the thought of encountering him wasn't pleasant. I took a deep breath and knocked.

I didn't recognize the woman who answered the door. She was short and built almost entirely out of lean muscle with long, black hair that hung straight down her back and nearly obscured her face. She pushed it back to greet me. A dark birthmark like angry scars colored the side of her face. With effort, I looked her in the eyes and asked for Jake.

He wasn't in the house, but the woman pointed me toward the old garage in the yard. I squinted, saw a dim light glowing inside and jogged toward it with a shout of thanks back at her.

Jacob Black looked surprised to see me when he rolled out from under his Volkswagen and saw me leaning in the doorway. He wore faded pants and, despite the summer heat rolling in off the afternoon breeze, a long-sleeved shirt smeared with greasy fingerprints. After a short moment, I tipped an imaginary hat to him and held out a hand with a grin. He accepted, hauled himself upright and tossed me a grease rag from his work bench.

"Better use that." Jake pointed at the rag and then gestured again with his chin. I looked at my blackened hands, cursed, and began wiping vigorously while he loaded an array of gizmos into an old milk crate.

"You need all this back, right?" he asked, holding up something I swear I'd never seen before.

I nodded and added a grimace that wasn't wholly theatrical. "Sis is back in town. She means business."

He chuckled. "Sam gets like that when I borrow his stuff." He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully then handed me the crate and continued. "Though, I never gave any of it away to strangers."

I shrugged. "Nobody's perfect."

Jake carried the calibrator for me while I lugged the heavier crate. We were packing it into the SUV when Sam's voice called out for Jake. I slammed the rear door closed and froze on the other side of the truck, my brain screaming _Duck and cover! _It made no sense because I was taller than the SUV and, even if I'd been shorter, Sam's vantage point gave him a clear view.

We said a quick goodbye. Jake loped over to his brother and I hopped into the passenger's seat trying to avoid Sam's glare. Emmett shifted into gear, and then the figure on the porch disappeared behind a light plume of dust. I sat back, relieved.

"Now we get ice cream, right?" Emmett asked.

I scratched my head, not looking his way. "I need to see Bella first."

He sighed as if he'd expected nothing less from me. "Trickster," he accused.

"What was that again?" I asked, cupping an ear. "Emmett smash?"

He swiped at me with a meaty hand. I dodged in time and blocked, laughing, and pointed at the ditch we were fast approaching.

"I am _not _the Hulk!" he declared, righting the vehicle. "Hunky, maybe, but we all know I'm a gentle giant."

I snickered. "Keep telling yourself that."

When Emmett turned off the car in Bella's driveway, I hopped out immediately before he could take a swipe at me now that he didn't have to worry about killing us both. I promised him I would be quick – he roared with laughter – and jogged up the familiar porch steps, still shaking my head as I rapped on the screen door.

Bella answered, looking supremely disappointed to see me. Her face was a bright, blotchy red that made it look as if she'd spent the day crying. Her expression only darkened when I asked to come inside.

"I don't really feel like being treated like shit," she said. "If that's what you're here for I'm not in the mood."

I groaned internally and tried the screen door. _Locked._ "Not funny, Bella. Let me in," I said in half exasperation, but she remained unyielding.

"Oh for crissakes, will you _please _just talk to me like a human being?" I demanded. "Inside, outside, upside down… I don't give a damn."

Bella's mouth turned down further. Wherever the line had shifted in the sand, I'd stepped over it again. "What's your damage?"

"I don't know, but you seem to be a psychiatrist. Figure it out," I snapped impatiently. I took a step backward and shook my head. This wasn't the time to lose my cool. I couldn't afford it. "Sorry - I didn't mean that."

She looked past me for the first time and saw the SUV parked in her driveway. "Is- is that Emmett?" she asked with a sniffle.

I nodded. "He's the only one who would drive me into town." I waved at the SUV and turned back to Bella. "I promised him milkshakes."

Bella looked between me, the idling vehicle and the front porch. She hesitated a moment before unlatching the door. I pressed my way into the foyer and let the door fall shut behind me.

She stood with her back toward the living room, her body as still as a store mannequin. Her blotchy skin really was tear-stained from this close. My heart filled with crushing, unbearable sadness for causing her this pain. I'd never wanted to hurt her, but it looked as though I'd failed to protect her after all. She closed her eyes as I brushed a thumb across her cheek. The tear had run over her jaw and down her neck before evaporating.

"I'm sorry," I said hopelessly. I'd hurt her, and I didn't know how to fix it. My throat tightened, cutting off anything else I could have said. I hated to see her so upset. I paused, hyperconscious of how our bodies pressed so close together that the inches between us hummed with electricity. Her breath warmed the air, mingling with mine in the steady flow of tension us. My hand threatened to shake.

Bella felt my uneven breathing. She looked up and pressed one small hand against my chest. The touch sent an electric current zinging through my entire body, and I closed my eyes against it. My heart seemed to stutter and stop. She stood on tip-toes, balance steadied by my body against hers, and kissed me. I felt her lips brush mine, a pressure as gentle as a landing hummingbird that made my entire body groan.

"… Bella," I mumbled, forcing myself away before I forgot why I'd come. I edged away from her, my back bumping up against the wall. A photo came undone, and I caught it behind my back before it could fall far. In the silence that followed, I remounted the frame and listened to her rough breathing settle before either of us could fight the other.

"Do you even know what you're apologizing for?" she said, her eyes brilliant with more tears.

I didn't, not precisely. I'd just gone with gut instinct and tried to make her feel better. I shook my head, dazedly. "I thought you… I mean, you've been avoiding me since Mike got sick."

Bella stared. I crossed my arms and looked away. We stood silently on opposite sides of the foyer for a long moment before she sighed. "I wasn't _avoiding _you because I thought you were a sociopath, Jasper," she said somewhat sarcastically, as if that would have been the most unreasonable conclusion in the world. "I was giving you _space _because you practically threw yourself out of my window. And then you spent the week being a complete tool to everyone but Alice." A horn tooted nearby. She paused then jabbed her thumb over her shoulder belatedly. "And Emmett."

I wanted to cross the distance, pull her into my arms and make her pain go away. But she wasn't finished yet.

"I can get you were nervous about the reception," she said. She held out one hand and bobbed it up and down like a scale. "But you won't even go past first base and I-" Bella shook her head, blushing furiously. "Is it me? Am I not your type?" she asked in a small voice, not meeting my wide-eyed gaze. Even with the blood pounding in my ears I could hear the resentment in her tone, the honest-to-God belief in the words she was saying.

Bella's words stung. She was beautiful – more so because she was a genuinely good person. She was also right. There was something wrong with _me_ if I didn't think she was attractive. But I did. I thought I'd told her so a hundred times over, but apparently she thought I was just teasing.

Her words were like salt in an open wound. I wasn't some Adonis statue to admire and idolize, and she wasn't something to objectify. The pain angered me, forced the words out of my mouth before I could keep it in.

"You're not Alice!" I shouted in final exasperation. "You don't look like her, you don't act like her and you aren't supposed to _be _her. I don't _want _you to be her. It's why I'm here trying to convince you to let me fucking apologize!"

She blinked, her eyes growing to quarters in her head.

"God, you spend all this time chatting with your girlfriends about me, but you want to know what _I_ think?" I held out my hands. "I think you're fucking hot!"

She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak. I cut her off.

"No, I do. I want you. I want you so bad it _hurts_ when I'm not with you, and it hurts worse when I am with you. I want you so bad I'd –" I waved my hands wildly, unable to articulate the feeling – "I'd do anything you told me to on a whim, and it's dangerous. It's dangerous and scary that you have that power and I don't know how to stop it."

I wanted power back. I wanted to turn it on her, crush her under the weight of my affection until she understood the truth: that she had me so wrapped up in her that I would never escape. I loved her, and its brute strength terrified me.

"I love you," I said, my voice shaking. A knot had built in my throat so tight I had to pause and catch by breath before continuing. My voice felt weaker than before, subdued now that I'd made my point. "I've never felt like this before and I don't want to fuck it up with…" _With shouting matches and distractions_, I'd been about to say. "I don't want to lose you."

She stared at me. "What did you say?"

I looked her in the eyes. Sweat prickled on my forehead. I felt my cheeks flush, alive as they could only be with her. She brought me to life like a spring rain in the desert. "I love you."

Bella didn't know how to respond. I hadn't expected her to say anything, anyway. My eyes were watery and my throat felt as if I'd tried to swallow a grapefruit whole. I crossed the foyer, sat down on the steps and buried my face in my hands with a sniffle, willing myself to get a grip.

_Love. _How had I not seen it would come to this? I remembered meeting Bella. The strangest intrigue had begun playing in the back of my mind, hidden behind the junk sickness like priceless jewels left in a garage about to be cleaned out. She enchanted me even when I thought I hated her. Bella made me want to prove myself if only to win her trust and admiration, if only to be liked. I should have seen my obsession would lead me down a path and get me lost. _Love_.

Bella waited a moment then walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. I looked up. The the tears in my eyes she shimmered like an angel, and I couldn't help but think she was one. A part of me, so raw that I instinctively tried to bury it deep, wanted to cling to her. I couldn't quit her; I'd come too far to ever let go.

Instead, I sniffled back my tears. "I don't do this all the time, I swear," I said, trying to smile. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

In the distance, Emmett honked the horn. Neither of us moved. Bella sat beside me and clasped my hand in hers. "You've never felt like this before," she said, her declarative tone getting to the heart of the matter in seconds.

I shook my head. As usual, I'd figured out my emotions too late to play it cool. I hadn't understood until a moment ago why she could affect me so easily. When she felt offended, I fixed it for her. When she wanted me to come upstairs, I abandoned all the rules Andalano himself couldn't dismantle. If anything, sudden realization scared me more than the previous weeks of confusion.

"Love is a scary thing," Bella said. She squeezed my hand. "It makes people crazy. Ecstatic. Obsessive. Bitter. _Jealous_." She said the final word with such emphasis that I had to look at her. Her eyes, brimming with passion, almost swallowed me. She didn't have to say it; we were so close I felt what would come next. I _knew_.

Emmett honked again, and this time I sat up as the electrified space between Bella and I dissolved. I glanced at her then at the door, half expecting my brother to come barreling in. I'd promised him five minutes, not fifteen.

She shrugged and spoke quietly. "Go."

I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her gently. She wrapped her arms around my neck, holding me until my head swam with the scent of her soap and the warmth of her skin. I pulled back, breathing hard. I wanted to explain the enormity of what I felt and feared when she kissed me, she tugged away at the cloth that separated her from my scars. I _needed_ to explain. This consuming fire in my heart commanded it.

The horn blared longer this time. I started to my feet and turned around, hesitating to leave but nervous to speak. I still needed to talk to her. I had to show her. "Remember the clearing up on the mountain?"

She nodded, a Mona Lisa smile curving the edges of her lips upward. "It's hard to forget."

"It's going to be sunny tomorrow," I said, "and I want to spend the day with you - if I can. I want to talk to you."

Bella's eyes searched my face, probably wondering what talking had to do with taking a day long hike up a mountain. I waited, my hand on the door knob, until her smile broadened and she agreed.

She followed me to the door, shouting across the yard what time she should pick me up. I called out, "As early as you can!" to which she responded by telling me to get some sleep for once in my life. I shouted back an answer that made her blush crimson and ducked into Emmett's jeep, laughing, before she found something to throw our way.

"I take it that went well," he said, trying not to laugh as we pulled out of the driveway. He'd overheard the tail end of our conversation.

I nodded. Compared to previous fights, that one had gone _very _well. He glanced at me expectantly, but I didn't elaborate. "So, how about that milkshake?"

"Now you're talking!" he said, his voice rising in excitement. I chuckled because, in that moment, I swear he jumped for joy. That was why Emmett was so great. Nothing ever got him down.

* * *

E/N: Talk about 0-60 and back! Now that Jasper addressed the problem - as he sees it - it's water under the bridge. And love, eh? I wonder what Andalano would say if he got to hear half of what Jasper confesses to Bella.

Leave a review, will ya? What do you think about Jasper's revelations?


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